The Last Titan
by Drakefire
Summary: Azeroth, a world of blood and war, has struggling since it's formation against impossible odds. Gods of madness, hordes of demons have tried to take this world, and each has failed in turn. Each passing day, the spirit nurtured in it's core grows stronger. But in it's darkest hour, when demon's invade once again, a spell is cast. The last Titan will be awaken.
1. The Council

I own neither World of Warcraft or Familiar of Zero. Both works belong to their respective owners and companies.

The Dreadscar Rift. A small shattered Legion portal world, full of demons and fel-fire. It wasn't much, but it made for a good strategic outpost. With hardly anything left of the plant it used to be, Dreadscar was easy to miss. Of course, that was until a certain gnome warlock accidentally summoned it's Overlord, the powerful Pit Lord Jagganoth. The powerful demon slew the trifling gnome, and took his other summoners prisoner. What should have incurred was time well spent torturing the mortals that had the arrogance to try and summon him. Not a jailbreak that ended with his body held up by chains like some type of tropey above a pool of fel-lava, watching as his domain became taken by these mortal usurpers, and his forces bent to their will.

The worse part. Having it happen over, and over, and over, and over again. Like it was some type of sick game! These mortals, with their stolen fel arts and stolen new base, had made themselves quite comfortable. As comfortable as a group of powerful warlocks could get when they had a Legion world with all of its knowledge and dark tomes. Which was quite a lot. The Council of the Black Harvest had grown quite strong, due to the new sources of knowledge, and the large number of new apprentices that had begun to seek tutelage under the senior members.

Being a warlock was certainly no easy task. One could easily end up dead summoning a demon, if the necessary precautions weren't made. As such, it was the job of the Council to make sure warlock's were properly prepared for the trails that faced them. But many did not wish to waste time training these new warlocks. That burden fell onto the back of one of their leaders. A blood elf warlock named Marlexana.

"Ms. Mar? Ms. Mar?" the voice was a faint tickle, persistent in trying to yank her attention away from the tome in her hand. It was quite interesting. While she lacked any degree of safety to even attempt this degree of summoning, least of all without the bloodstone being sufficiently recharged, and the stone had been slumbering ever since the Eredar twins had been broken.

"What is it?" the warlock closed the tome with a load crack, causing the errand boy of sorts to flinch. She was not pleased, at all. Ways to summon even stronger demon's had always been an interest to her, and the tome had shown great promise in that regard. Binding those demons would be the hardest part. She resisted the urge to run her hand along her side. Jagganoth had made that mistake very clear, in the form of a massive gash on the left side of her body, made worse by the fel-fire wielded by pit-lords. Marlexana considered herself lucky that she lived through the blow.

"Master Flamescowl wishes to speak with you," the man quivered in fear, clearly intimidated by her. Good. But that left the part with Ritssyn up to question. The orc was of the no nonsense verity. He would not have interrupted her studies without a good cause. Which meant that whatever problem had arisen was important. Like an actual problem, not the problem were a student had summoned a large pack of imp's and forgot to bind them.

"He has asked for the other members of the council as well, alongside the other first," he went on, ignoring the fact she was clearly thinking things over. He had called the whole council? Then this was truly important. It had not been since the Eredar Twins that the full might of the council had been needed, for, well, anything.

"Very well," a small fel orb formed around the tome, carrying it back to it's proper place. "Come, Thal'kiel, we are leaving." The floating skull let a grumble of annoyance, forced to float away from the book it had been reading.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" the demonic implement rasped. Even after what had to be thousands of years, Thal'kiel's mind somehow remained intact. So much so, the artifact still had free will. A very rare trait for something that had been in the Legion's hands for so long. And despite being just a head, Thal'kiel retained the talent of summoning that was ultimately responsible for his current state.

"I have no idea, but whatever it is, it should be important," I stated, finally entering the circle. Several large tomes of power floated in place, to large to be put on any shelf.

"It is," Ritssyn scowled, the mane of flames he had received as a parting gift from Ragnaros the Firelord was much brighter than normal. The orc wore red robes, with a staff of twisted metal on his back. Marlexana looked around her to the other members of the Council that had already arrived. There was Ritssyn, of the second circle, followed Rubeka Shadowbreaker, who was directly responsible for the banishment of their first leader, Kanrethad Ebonlocke. He had tried, and succeeded, in turning himself into a demon, and as such, had to be removed from the equation. Rubeka was there to make sure that banishment stuck. As such, the forsaken had made many trips to Outland to sure things didn't change. Her own robes were a mixture of dark red and purple. Seeing as she was one of the Council's master demon summoners, she didn't need a weapon, seeing as she could call on swarms of imps and dreadstalker's at any time.

The fourth and fifth circle's were held by Shinfel Blightsworn, a blood elf, and Zinnin Symthe. Shinfel was a blood elf, and no small sadist, either. And that was before Cho'gall's corruption had burst from her veins, leaving her arms covered in dark brands. Her eyes, which would normally be light green, had been covered, and she made use of black robes. Nothing covered her marred flesh, however. Zinnin was a worgen, and a strange one, at that. The wolf-man was covered in light-grey fur, and was mute as a result of him being present when Deathwing, the Destroyer, was unmade. It didn't help that he wore a flaming muzzle. His robes were some of the more colorful, a mixture of dark purples and blues, alongside black and what could best described as blood that has been left to dry.

The final two members of the Council held the sixth and the newly created seventh circles, held by Kira Iresoul and Lulubelle Fizzlebang, respectively. Kira was a human, with long black hair and eyes, and quite tan as well. She used to be the apprentice to Ritssyn, but the two had fallen out, seeing as he had left her behind after they had infiltrated a group known as Argus Wake. It was her Bloodstone that allowed most of the Council to be rescued, and the twin's will to be bent. Her purple and red robes left her midriff exposed. While some would question the practicality of it, the cloth armor worn by warlocks had never been that protective anyway, and many had plenty of defensive spells in case someone or something got to close. Then came Lulubelle. Sister of the infamous Wilfred Fizzlebang, and one of the prime examples of why you should always be careful when summoning demons. Because Eredar Princes were not doomguards. She was a gnome, and like all gnomes, was quite short. Her green hair was fairly normal, seeing as most female gnomes had colors like pink or blue. She was never without a pair of goggles on her face, and her black robes had been adorned with skulls.

This was the Council of the Black Harvest, barring one final person.

"Where is the other half of the first circle?" it was Shinfel that spoke. Mar herself looked around. Of course, the second half of the first circle wasn't present. He was never really one for being on time. Even if she herself had only found out about this meeting moments earlier, it still didn't excuse his lateness. Especially for something this important.

"Normally, I would say we wait," Mar looked around at the other members as she took her place in the circle. "But seeing how sudden this meeting is, and how possible it that something of importance has happened, I think it would be best to start now."

"At this moment, I believe I have to agree. What has happened is both troubling and sudden," Lulubelle spoke up. A small bolt of fel-fire struck the floor, causing a small device to come to life. It was a gift from the Illidari. A thank you, so to speak, for an unknown service. It was strange, but the gift had already proven itself useful, and nobody truly wished to return it.

The device flashed to life, rising slightly off the floor, before admitting a dark green projection. The light took the shape of a sphere, lines quickly becoming recognizable landmasses. It was Azeroth.

"There are two reasons that I called this meeting. The first is this," Ritssyn finally spoke up, voice crackling like a fire, his finger pointing at a large swirling mass of energy, well beyond the planet. Eye's narrowed as they all stared at it. It's dark green hue revealed it's nature. It was fel.

"Is that a portal?" Rubeka asked, clearly unnerved by the prospect. Zinnin let out grunt, followed by a growl, which translated into some variation of yes, probably.

"I think it is. At least, it's someone trying to open one," Kira spoke. Most of them nodded in agreement. "But where will it lead to, and who is trying to open it?" Marlexana frowned. She had a good guess at the answer to both of those questions, and neither of them were good.

"The power necessary to create and maintain such a portal would be immense. Either several warlocks are working together to create this, or one very powerful warlock is doing this. In all honest, it's likely Gul'dan, and if that is the case, the portal is likely one that would link Azeroth to Argus," she stated, head sweeping back and forth. The other's looked at each other. Even among warlocks, Gul'dan had a bad reputation. And he was extremely powerful. This one even more so, now that he had the trust of the legion. The portal in the Tomb of Sargeras was already enough of a problem. A second one leading to the homeworld of the demons? That every well could mean an end to Azeroth.

"I am assuming the original plan of Horde and Alliance forces striking at the Nighthold is still in effect, correct?" Kira questioned, pausing slightly, as if waiting for Marlexana's confirmation. The blood elf nodded. That was the plan anyway. But from the looks of it, time was quickly running out. A swift strike was needed, but they were not fully prepared. Not yet, anyway. A week or two more, and that was it. But they didn't have that type time. She would send word to the Warchief once this meeting was done. Personally.

"Now, what is the second?" Marlexana asked. Please don't let this be worse than a portal to Argus, please!

"It's some type of spell. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but seems to have encompassed most of Azeroth," the orc ground out. "However, I am unfamiliar with it's composition and it's purpose." Each member of the Council looked at each other. Ritssyn was a master of destruction magic, alongside his former apprentice. Shinfel and Zinnin were masters of blights and curses. Lulubelle, Rubeka and Marlexana were all master summoners. Very few things were beyond the full might of the council. This seemed to be one of those things. Even it's type was impossible to tell. One moment it was Light, then Elemental. It just kept changing. Either the spell had all the different types of magic, or it was something new altoghter.

"I recognize this. If my memory serves, this is what it looks like to be on the receiving end of a summoning spell," it was Thal'kiel that spoke. The skull had been observing the spellwork for quite some time. What spell it was couldn't be concerned, whoever was casting it had power. Plenty of power.

"That's impossible!" many of the Council members shouted, including the half of the first circle. What being would be able to summon nearly half a planet? Muttering took hold. The implication of this was resounding. Of course, something would have to be done about that. It may have been hypocritical, but none of them wanted to be on a receiving end of a summoning spell. Shinfel had already done that, even though it was the only way rescue her without going through an army of demons.

"I'm going to assume there isn't going to be much we can do to stop this from happening," Lulubelle said, with Mar and Jubeka inclined to agree. The only way to stop a summoning from taking place was to interrupt the summoner's concentration. Seeing as this summoner was bringing most of a planet, alongside all it's people, it was a safe bet that they were out of reach. In normal cases, it wasn't exacting the summoning you had to worry about. It was the binding. Mar's eyes suddenly widened. The binding!

"Netherlord?" Kira raised an eyebrow, reading the shocked look that played out over the blood elf's face. The council looked at their only present leader.

"Whatever this thing is, are they trying to summon the World Soul?" the question caused the entire room to still. Summoning typically followed by binding. But binding a Titan spirit? That was something nobody could account for. For all anyone knew, it could spell disaster. Besides Sargeras, none of the Titan's remained alive, as far as most knew. Meaning Azeroth was likely the last of her kind, though the several disasters that have plagued the world likely have set back the being's growth. Seeing as Titan's were beings the size of planets, it was likely a good thing she was still asleep. And nobody had been around to record what exactly happens when a Titan wakes up, either.

"I am not able to tell if that is the case, but it does seem like a logical conclusion," the floating skull said, keeping mostly still as it observed the spell. More than a few members didn't exactly trust the artifact, but they all knew that it had more experience in it's field than all of them combined. The news was alarming, and at the moment, there was very little the Council could do about this. Alone, at least.

Muttering and whispering once again took hold. The mear thought was enough to cause concern, but now they were in a position that painted a clearly negative picture about what was to come. And seeing how there was nothing they could do about it didn't help. The only real action they could take was try to lesser the impact, but they simply lacked the tools for such a venture.

"Well, I think our next action is simple," a new voice rose up above the noise. Mar's eyes narrowed.

"You're late," she snapped, clearly annoyed over the matter. This was nothing new for the other half of the first circle. Leonox had never been one for this type of thing. The only reason, as far as some were concerned, he was made the second half of the first circle was the fact he had the strongest bound with the Deadwind Harvester, a powerful soul eating scythe, used as a prison for several powerful and rebellious demons.

"Not really. I just let my peers that have more expertise in their respective fields give their input, seeing as I know very little besides from curses and hexes," he grinned. It was quite true that he had little experience with the destruction and demonology schools. Leonox, completely opposite to his horde counterpart, specialized heavily.

"Besides the High King and the Warchief, who else shall we inform?" he asked, finally taking his place within the circle.

"The Kirin Tor and the Tirisgarde, at the least!" Jubeka shouted, with Zinnin letting out a whine of agreement. Both choices were smart. The Kirin Tor had the Council of Six, which made up the ruling body of Dalaran. Khadgar was among their number, and he would be informed of the matter, even if he wasn't. The mage was far too respected to not be given that type of information. What remained was no less powerful or noteworthy, seeing as a blue dragon, the former Aspect of Magic, Kalec, was among their number. The Tirisgarde was an order much like the Council of the Black Harvest. One of the twelve class orders, in fact.

Plus the knowledge the Tirisgarde had obtained likely rivaled, if not surpassed that of the Kirin Tor. In fact, many members of the Council as a whole had friends within the Tirisgarde, making the it hard for the two groups to keep meaningful secrets from the other. Mar's younger brother used to be a high ranking member, before he stepped down to lead Silvermoon, after the mysterious disappearance of Regent Lord Lor'themar.

"The Earthen Ring should also be informed, if they aren't already aware of the situation," Ritssyn offered. That was logical. Shaman's didn't have much love for Warlocks as a whole. They were all on the same side, and their knowledge of Azeroth as a whole would be useful when the spell finally took effect. Nobody wanted, or needed, a second Cataclysm.

"Are we in agreement?" the Council nodded. This was not the time for divisions. This was a time for action.

"I, Marlexana of the half of the first circle, propose that inform the Warchief and High King, alongside Kirin Tor, Earthen Ring, and the Tirisgarde of the Legion portal, but also the summoning spell that is targeting Azeroth, and likely, it's Titan spirit," the blood elf rose. "Does the other half of the circle support this motion?"

"I, Leonox of the half of the first circle, agree with Marlexana's plan to inform the High King and Warchief, alongside Kirin Tor, Earthen Ring, and the Tirisgarde of the Legion portal, but also the summoning spell that is targeting Azeroth, and likely, it's Titan spirit," the human nodded.

"Leonox and I will leave to inform the leaders of the Horde and Alliance at once. Ritssyn, I know you still have some contacts with some shamans from when you fought Ragnaros, see if you can send word that way. Everyone else can divide up at your leisure. Just make sure it gets done. And Thal'kiel?" the blood elf paused.

"Yes?" the skull hummed, seeming quite content at the fact it was being left behind.

"When that spell looks like it's about to go through, I want a warning. To anyone and everyone you can contact. The more time we have, the better off we will be," she snapped. The stress of everything was reaching a fever pitch. Azeroth was her home, and it had suffered enough.

"I will do what I can, but I will not make promises I won't be able to keep," Thal'kiel's voice was unnervingly soft. His partner wasn't the only one concerned. If it wasn't for the fact the proof lay before him, he would be calling this impossible. No being should or could have type of power to cast such a spell. Even if it failed, which was likely, just the strength and magical talent to perform such a feat. The only reason Thal'kiel wasn't as worried as he could have been, was the fact this was likely not Sargeras. Yes, it was possible that the Dark Titan had that level of power, he just simply never displayed such. He could, but never had. Seeing as not only the true master of the Legion had been missing for centuries, and the fact that the Legion was trying to open another portal to Azeroth, made it clear he was not the culprit.

Besides, it was well know that Sargeras truly didn't need his own creation to complete his goals. It just made it easier. The power of the Dark Titan surpassed that of the full strength of the Legion.

Marlexana stepped out of the sewers into the streets of Dalaran. It was close to midday, if the sun was any indication. Hopefully, the Warchief had already risen from his slumber. If not, when she was just going to have to do it herself. The floating city was quite busy at the moment, the cities inn's filled with people getting food and drink, shops selling potions, armor, alongside other items and goods. The city was still a small, merely a fraction of what the old city of mages had been, making it easy to make it to the Horde's district. Both the Horde and Alliance had been given small areas of the city, mostly to make sure both had a place free of tension from the other faction. Each came with it's own inn, guards, and portals, allowing for easy access to many of the Horde's capital cities.

But there was one city she was looking for. Orgrimmar. If the Horde had a capital, it would be that mighty fortress. It took the combined might of the Alliance and most of the Horde to bring down the city gates. Then again, for that battle, things had been different. Garrosh, the Warchief back then, had powerful creations and foul magic, even by the standards of warlocks, at his back. It was how he acquired it that that was the final nail in the coffin. Destroying one of the most beautiful places on Azeroth, the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, in a single dark blast using the heart of an Old God.

The blood elf arrived in front of the swirling red portal, snapping her out of her thoughts. Even from here, the heat of the desert washed across her face. Marlexana stepped through, merely a second before landing in Orgrimmar. The coolness of the early morning, combined with the fact the portal lead to an area known as the Cleft of Shadows, sent a chill down her spine. The cleft itself was part of a system of caverns beneath the city, and it seemed to have magical properties of it's own. In short, it's name was accurate. Light was dampened, whether it was mundane or magical did not matter. One's who frequented the area adapted to the gloom, one way or another.

There was little time to reminisce, however. The city was slowly beginning to wake. Citizens were rising, preparing to start another day. Weapon's needed forging, armor crafted. Goods had to be sold. The city may not have been the largest, but it was still alive. Building into the walls of a valley left Orgrimmar with little space to grow, but it was nearly impossible to attack.

The blood elf made her way to her destination, the imposing fortress of Grommash Hold, within the Valley of Strength. The keep was named in honor of Garrosh's late father, Grom. Made of stone and iron, it was the seat of the Warchief. Thankfully, the doors were open. Which meant one thing. The Warchief was awake.

Marlexana entered the keep. Most would be nervous, but seeing how she knew the Warchief before the was promoted, a fact that calmed her nerves.

"What is your business?" two guards snap, crossing their weapons in front of the gate. She glared at the two, annoyed, but relenting, knowing exactly what their duty was.

"I am Marlexana, the holder of the Horde's half of the circle of the Council of the Black Harvest. I have come bearing important news. For the Warchief's ears only," the last part was in such a tone the one of the guards flinched visibly.

"Sent her in," a voice came from within the hold. It was an order.

"Yes Warchief!" their fists slammed into their chests, sending a dull thud that echoed through the iron citadel. She walked through the final door. The chamber was dark, poorly lit by a ring of torches. Overlooking over maps and battle plans, the Warchief stood. Like Mar, he was a wielder of the three artifacts for his class, the warrior. His green skin was covered by red and black armor, his personal favorite, even if it was unknown whether it was because he liked them before hand, or simply because they were the colors of the Horde. Even by Orc standard, he was a mass of hulking muscles, muscles devolved from wielding massive weapons and shielding his allies. A powerful and great warrior. But even a better friend.

"It has been far too long, Mar," he spoke, his voice like a rumble. "But something tells my you didn't come all this way simple to catch up on old times." Despite being an Orc, a race that too many would consider dumb, the Warchief was smart. He had read her concern like a book. The elf had a reputation for being serous, something the orc knew wasn't entirely true. But when push came to shove, she would not waste time on trivial matters.

"As much as it would be a pleasure, Warchief, there is no time for such things," the elf spoke, bowing in respect. She grit her teeth. This was no time for ceremony and tradition.

"Two things are about to happen, Matuk," she said, causing the orc to raise an eyebrow. Rarely did the girl use his name, unless it was for something important. Based on the tone of her voice, and how her eyes seemed to flicker with light green energy, then this was no small matter. "Someone is trying to open a portal to Azeroth. Based on it's size, and the magic used to make it, the Council of the Black Harvest believes it is Gul'dan." The orc's eyes narrowed at the mention of Gul'dan. That orc was responsible, in some from or another, for most of the disasters that plagued Azeroth for the last couple months. He was also responsible for the deaths of former High King Varian Wrynn, and former Warchief Vol'jin.

Both leader's deaths had sent shockwaves through the two factions, with people on both sides calling for vengeance. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue. Soldier's on the battlefield out for retribution were powerful assets, their rage fuelling their motivation. The Horde and Alliance weren't out for the Legions blood thought. They were after each other. What could be the end of the world was upon them, and yet member's of the Horde and Alliance wanted the heads of the other. It was nothing short of a miracle that the talks with their current High King resulted in peace. Then again, the kid was inexperienced, not an idiot. Fighting the Legion required the full attention of both, and his counterpart knew this well. It hadn't stopped some on either side from trying to revive the bloodbath in the making. Horde members that were caught defying the Warchief in such a manor were imprisoned, and should be lucky that they hadn't been executed for treason.

The main reason he hadn't was some of them were counted among the Champions of Azeroth, a group of individuals that were resistant to death. No, resistant didn't do the fact justice. Practically immune did. Yes, they could die, but their bodies would come back, without sign of injury. They could be crushed, incinerated, dropped into acid, anything, and they would always come back. He and Mar also belonged in this group. A certain event had grown this number from hundreds to more than tens of thousands. Mar and him also belonged that group.

But even if they did come back from death, most avoided the experience. Dying was painful. It did make it a very good teacher, even with the massive influx of people with this curse, most, thankfully, didn't have it. Still, it was good, just to be safe, to keep criminals locked up. It would be bad if they executed a murder, to only find them running around outside the city. Nope, best to keep them where they could be easily watched.

"The second is that there is a spell of known origin," the blood elf's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Thal'kiel believes it to be a summoning spell." The orc's eyes widened. He was very aware of the ancient Eredar skull, and it's reputation. While he didn't entirely trust Thal'kiel, Matuk could hardly ignore that it had more experience in that field than nearly anyone. Even if he was just a head. His eyes narrowed more has Marlexana paused.

"The spell! It's!" the world went dark, and the earth shook.

Leonox make his way through the streets of Stormwind. Dusk was beginning to settle on the city, the fading light of the sun reflecting from the white stones that made up most of the buildings within the city. It was beautiful, and a shame he didn't come unless he was on business.

Business. Yes, he needed to make his way to the High King at once. Not look around at architecture. He slowly made his way through the districts, ignoring, or, at least, trying to, the stares at him. Warlocks weren't exactly trusted. It could be worse though. The Ebon Blade was close to bringing both Alliance and Horde forces down on them. Seeing as they had resurrected two important people of both factions, it was a natural response.

Still, the scythe on his back drew attention. The easiest and simplest way to describe it was that it was similar to Frostmourne. Both weapon's devoured the souls of it's victims, and if their wielder was to die, the owner's soul would join the chorus. One difference was the fact that Ulthalesh was more than just a soul eating scythe. It was a prison for demons that had once defied Sargarses's rule. That in of itself was a problem. The name of the weapon came from the strongest demon trapped within. And it held a grudge. It was weak, for now. Ulthalesh hadn't had much of meal for thousands of years, but now, it was used to bring down demons and other powerful creatures. Only thing keeping it from returning to full power was time. Time that was going to run out.

Hopefully, he would be able to ditch the weapon in favor of something more simple. It would be much better off locked away within the vault he taken it from. But that was not going to happen until the Legion had been beaten back, or Azeroth was burned. Then, the scythe would once again be their problem.

Leonox stepped up to the palace. Marble gleamed in the remaining rays of sunlight. A statue of the former High King stood in front of the castle, sword in hand. He remembered Varian's final stand against the Legion at the Broken Shore. He remembered the cries for blood. For a war that didn't need to be fought. Given hindsight, he knew that it wasn't the Horde's retreat that damned them. It was what saved them. If the Horde hadn't pulled out, then most of both factions armies and leadership would be dead. Azeroth would already be burned, destroyed, or simply converted into another Legion world.

But that didn't happen. The hallway was guarded, heavily. Soldier's in full steel armor swarmed the palace, the only place skin was visible was the visor. Blue shoulder pads kept in place blue tabards, each one with a golden lion upon it. Each shield also had been engraved with the symbol of the Alliance. The demon's recent attempt on the current High King's life had the guard on edge, even if the attempt was stopped by none other than Anduin Wrynn, High King of the Alliance. Anduin had come far, his defeat of a dreadlord assassin testament to that fact. His negotiation of peace with the Horde when many screamed for blood was even more commendable. Anduin had changed his father, that much had become clear over the years. But until Anduin had taken the throne, it was unclear just how much his father changed him as well. The young man still cared for peace, but if force came to shove, he seemed to be willing to fight for it. A far cry from what Anduin used to be.

"High King Anduin Wrynn. I come baring," was far as he got, as the world went white, and the earth screamed.


	2. Summoning

Louise shifted on her feet nervously. Today was the day when all second year students would summon their familiar, the Springtime Familiar Summoning. It was a test that countless have taken, and nearly just as many have passed. Any normal mage could perform this task without issue. The problem? Louise was far from a normal mage. Every spell she cast ended up as nothing more than a blast of energy. As such, she was regarded by most of her peers as a Zero.

Despite the confidence she wore, it was a flimsy mask, at best. The girl was scared. She had never succeed with any spell. Each and every time. There was no reason to believe today would be any different. But failure was not an option. If she failed this time, she would be expelled.

So she waited nervously. Louise was going last, if only to allow the students who didn't want to watch her failure to depart. As such, the summoning began. Kirche von Zerbst, a fire mage from Germania, hailing from a family that rivaled Louise's own, summoned a salamander. The red beast's tail ended in a burning tip, making it a perfect match for the fire mage, much to Louise's jealousy. Of course, the redhead would rub it in her face later. It was part of her nature, so far as Louise was concerned. Tabitha, one of Kirche's friends, summoned a massive blue dragon. The blue haired girl leaned against it, already reading another book, seeming to take no pride in summoning such a great familiar.

The summoning continued. So many familiars. Some mundane, like cats and rabbits. Some magical, like the sole bugbear, or the bear sized mole summoned by Guchie.

"Have we gone through everybody?" the voice came from the only teacher there, Colbert. The aging fire mage had taken up the profession quite some time ago. He was good at his job, carrying and intelligent, treating his student's like the young adult's they were. Louise tried to make herself look smaller, to avoid notice. Of course it didn't work.

"No, not yet." Kirche spoke, looking quite smug with herself, as Louise glared. "Miss Valerie is left." Louise let the unlady like growl die in her throat. Calm. Control. Well, there was no escaping this. She steeled herself, stepping forward into the ring of students. Muttering rose up, but she payed it no heed.

"My servant that existed somewhere in this vast universe, my divine, beautiful, wise, powerful servant, heed my call, I wish from very bottom of my heart and add to my guidance and appear!" Louise chanted. The circle began to glow, causing everyone to step back, expecting another explosion. The glow suddenly dimmed.

"That's it?" someone in the crowd spoke up. No, she couldn't fail. Not now. She prepared to cast again, but the circle lit up again. It flashed six times, each one causing recoil from the crowd, before flickering faintly, the light nearly dying out. It then began to glow. Each second the light became stronger and brighter, before it was shining like a second sun. All the while, something grew in the back of Louise's mind. An itch that she couldn't quite scratch. A tickle that couldn't be placed. The glow finally died.

Nothing. Nothing was there! This shouldn't be possible! There wasn't even an… her thoughts went no further as the earth screamed and buckled. All the while, the feeling in the back of her mind grew. It wasn't an itch. It wasn't a tickle. It was a scream of pure agony. As the earth raged, Louise screamed.

x-x-x

Twisting. Searching. Seeking. It needed to find something. Something suitable. Something pure. Something powerful.

The first, powerful. Mighty. A pinnacle of strength. Able to split planets in a single blow of his massive broken sword. But he was dark. Corrupted. Unnatural flame had darkened it's soul, and chard it's body. It wished for the universe to burn. It was impure. Something else. Something pure. Something powerful.

It floated through the Great Dark. Twisting. Searching. Seeking. There were more of the beings like the first. Pure. But dead. It checked each body, each limp form the size of planet. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. But there was something left. A trail. There was something left of these beings. It needed to find them. The beings that could hold even the faintest flicker of these being's power would make for a powerful familiar.

Twisting, searching, seeking. It was getting closer, the trail ended, no, the holders of the power would not do. What they inhabited would. Deep inside, something slumbered. It's dreams were constant, like the wind. Dreams of light caressing her skin. Of the mortals that walked on her skin being happy.

Yes, she was young, weak, even. Yet to have full formed, and if the scars that marred her surface had anything to say, maybe she never will. But she had potential. If the mortals that inhabited her surface were any indication. Flawed, imperfect beings, as mortals tended to be. But they had spirit. Strength. Will. Determination.

But their world had corruption. Darkness. Demon's poured from a rift and reality, old horror's bidding their time. Could it be cut? No. The old evil's were ingrained too deep. To tear them out, to remove them, would do damage that may kill the slumbering being. To keep it alive, it would need to bring nearly half the planet. Machines kept healing energy pumped into the world soul. Too much to pick and choose. The corruption would have to come with, and ideally would be dealt with in times.

The demons would be far easier. The rift was beyond its power to close. But the others. The portals, the teleporters, the gates. Cords that could be easily cut. Links that could be snipped. It could bring half of this world.

Four continents, hundreds of islands, two moons, portal systems to other worlds. It was possible. It would be done. Things would need to be cut out to make room for the new addition. It would be a tight fit. But it could and would be done.

Azeroth shuttered and flashed, vanishing from sight as a dark green portal opened in the heavens.

x-x-x

Colbert was doing his best to calm his students. Most of them were in a panic. Earthquakes weren't exactly common in Tristain, and due to the nation's many mages, damage and shaking could be minimized in some cases. But this just seemed to happen. A skilled earth mage could predict with some degree of accuracy when one would accrue. This time, there was no such warning.

Then there was Louise. If it wasn't for experience, he wouldn't have been able to tell what she was screaming about. Some did it because of fear, or some would assume, frustration at another failure. The fact was, it was neither. Not frustration or fear. This was the scream of someone in pain. And he couldn't tell the cause. She didn't appear hurt. No cuts, no blood, no anything.

She was on her knees, continuing to scream. Something needed to be done, before she caused herself to pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Louise, what is wrong?" the teacher was surprised at the first to attempt to come to Louise's add. The rivalry between the pinkette and Kirche was well know. As such, it was refreshing to see redhead put aside her difference with the girl. Though the timing was certainly strange. There must have been more to this rivalry than he originally believed.

"There's a voice in my head," Louise managed to gasp out, slowly curling into a fetal position. "She's in pain, screaming. Why do you care?" the pinkette feel back into her mindless screaming. A voice in her head? A she? Was it her familiar? If so, then where was it? She hadn't even bound it yet. Why would there be an empathic link? Was it invisible? Could it be the cause of the shaking?

The quake was beginning to die. As had Louise's own screaming. Thought the later seemed to be born from exhaustion, more than anything else.

"Kirche, take Louise down the nurse at once. I'll deal with, this," there was no other word to describe it but disaster. Earth uprooted, more than few buildings had suffered light damage. What was built on the school's grounds were durable and hardy, build to withstand all manner of natural or magical occurrences. If they were this damaged, places that weren't so well built could have been outright destroyed.

"Summoning?" Tabitha asked as Kirche navigated through the crowded hallway. The earthquake had caused the normally very focused servants into a state of confusion. Of course, such an event confused everyone. Without warning and mere seconds after Valieri finished casting? The idea of summoning an earthquake was out. It was simply absurd concept. An earth based summon was also out. The size that would be required to cause such a quake would be impossible. Added to the fact it didn't reveal itself, and Louise's screaming didn't make sense.

Delirious from pain? But what type of summon caused pain? Not even willpower exhaustion caused something like that. And why would Louise suffer from that? As far as anyone could see, she summoned nothing! Something invisible? A Changeling, perhaps? No those could change their shape, but make themselves unseeable.

More importantly, Louise had said something about a she. This meant, despite the fact she didn't bind anything, there was still an empathic link. Was it brought on by the summon itself? If so, where was it? It just didn't make sense!

Kirche placed the small girl down on the bed. Louise was many things. Stubborn, proud, easy to anger. Which made her a joy to keep around. Even if Kirche was never going to admit it. The two were rivals, after all.

But came the problem of proving that Louise actually did summon something. There was no other explanation for what happened. The earthquake. The passing out. Was it possible that the cause was willpower exhaustion?

If that was truly the case, what had Louise summoned?

x-x-x

Louise slumbered. Within her mind, she was not herself. She was a slumbering being. A planet. Elements danced across her surface. Playing, fighting. In innocence and goodwill, earth, wind, water, and fire were both comfort and familiarity to her. It was calm.

Until darkness came. Shadow dug it's tendrils deep into her form, turning tranquil dreams into maddening nightmares. The elements rose as one, only to be brought to heel. Darkness reigned.

But out of the dark, something came for her. It was like her, but awake. It brought help. And soon another war waged across her surface. Beings of stone and metal fought against the darkness, sealing it away. She suffered from the fighting, one of the largest concentrations of blight ripped from her body, leaving a deep scar.

But wounds were mended. Healing energy was sent into her sleeping form, while the bleeding gash was covered by a well of arcane power. The beings like her left, leaving their creations behind to watch over. They were soon joined by others. Dragon's, powerful and mighty, also became her protectors. Life, nature, magic, earth and time. These were the blessings they were given.

Time began to move faster. One of her keepers left, and an aspect and keeper slowly falling to her old enemies. Minions of her foe clashed with an empire of trolls. The insects scattered, cementing the empire for a time.

The Curse of Flesh took root. Vrykul began to change, some becoming smaller and weaker. Mankind was born from massive giants. Earthen's stone skin became flesh and blood. Mechagnomes mechanical parts turned of organs. Mogu, creators of life, turned on each other, and with the rise of the Thunder King, their former master, one of her keepers.

Elves began to appear around the magical font that helped her. Their skin was dark purple, with hair like grass, or more rarely, like stars. She nearly felt a panic, something far off and distant. They began to use magic, their small civilization growing and flourishing at a rapid rate.

To the south, the mogu were overthrown by the races they had enslaved. Things were moving faster.

The highborn, the ruling class of the Night Elves, found something. An army. Lead by a being like her, like the ones that helped her, but not like them. Hostile. Anger. Willing to kill her. Many rose against the invaders, ultimately winning the day. The well, the one used to stop her bleeding was destroyed. More than destroyed. Annalated. The work that her peers had created was almost gone.

But life goes on. Soon, what remained of the highborne were exiled, taking a new name, and a new home across the new sea.

Humans began to group together, forming new nations. One such helped the high elves in war, earning a reward. Magic. As it's practice grew, so did the burning foe's interest. A group was formed, to safeguard her.

Things began moving faster.

One of the old foes make their move, with a legion, one of the groups of scattered insects, making their return. Many lives were lost, but the enemy was sealed away.

The burning foe returned. Weaker than he was before, one stood against him, and slayed his avatar. Merely a fragment of his power. He hide part of his power within the guardian that saved her, bidding his time.

Things were moving faster.

Her guardian had a son. One that she gave all her magic to. And all of her corruption. The boy grew into a man, the dark spirit festering within. At his behest, the man created a portal. Orcs came through, corrupted with the blood of demons.

Things were moving faster.

War came. Victories, and loses. The first Horde shattered. Portal closed. A second one was formed. One of honor. But as light came, so did dark. Undead ran rampant, destroying the kingdom of a willing prince, and that of the High Elves.

Things were moving faster.

The undead, like the orcs, were merely pawns in the plot of another. The demons returned, without their master. They failed, at the cost of the night elves immortality. The undead broke free from their demonic masters.

Things were moving faster.

War. Conflict. Invasion. War. Conflict. Undead Scourge. War. Conflict. The Hour of Twilight. War. Conflict. Near resurrection of an ancient foe. War. Conflict. Iron Horde. War. Conflict. Legion.

Louise was locked in a strange dream.

Shame that she wouldn't remember it when she woke.

Deep beneath it all, a titan slumbered. Waiting for the day which she could finally awaken. One eye cracked open.

x-x-x

This was a bit shorter than I would have liked, but this is the best stopping point as far as I can tell.


	3. Kvaldir

Before I begin, I am going to request that people do not post reviews pertaining to other stories on this one. If you want to know if I plan on updating, please sent me a private message. I want reviews about this story to be about this story. I'm not going to name names here, but I request that this is followed in the future, whether you are a guest or not.

Now with that out of the way, let's get on with the chapter!

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

Anduin let out a sigh. Very little of the past week had gone as any would expect it to. After since the Alliance's representative in the Council of the Black Harvest arrived, unannounced, everything had gone white. By the time anyone could see again, it had started out like a bad story. Completely impossible and nonsensical. But what was the phrase? Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction?

Because it described what was happening to a key. He may have addressed the news the next day, but even before then, it was an open secret. After all, there was no way to hide that Azeroth now had an additional pair of moons. Alongside the White Lady and the Blue Child, another blue moon and a massive pink one had joined in the celestial dance. And while he wanted to rest on the matter, but it was unlikely any leader got any type of sleep in the Eastern Kingdoms that night. Maybe the Council of the Three Hammers did, but that was because most of their capital was underground.

He pitied Kalidar Flamestrike, the new Blood Elf Reagent, one of the two leaders within the Horde's circle, after the mysterious disappearance of both Lothamer and Sylvanas. Missing two key members of leadership would be crippling all on it's own, but Sylvanas had recently been given the Title of Warchief. As such her disappearance was great cause of concern. Without a Warchief to pass the title onto, the Horde entered a chaotic state of affairs, with an Orc adventurer by the name of Matuk being given the title of Warchief, while Kalidar's exploits in the Broken Shore and elsewhere caused the title of Reagent Lord to be forced upon him. If he had heard correctly, Nathanos Blightcaller, Sylvanas's second in command, had stepped up to lead the Forsaken, but due to the fact he was busy at the Broken Shore, ruled by proxy. He hadn't heard much about them, but it was likely one of Nathanos's lieutenant's or captain's.

The Alliance wasn't in a much better state of affairs. King Genn Greymane had also gone missing. His son had died a few years prior, and his daughter, if rumor was to believed, had joined the Uncrowned. If this was truly the case, that meant she would be unable to lead until she left the order. There was Darius Crowley, of course, but more than a fair share of Gillians didn't trust the former rebel. Thankfully, many Gillians were willing to wait for a ruler, so it wasn't as massive of an issue as it would have been. Both Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage were both busy in the Broken Shore, working on undoing the damage of the Emerald Nightmare, forcing them to also have a proxy in the form of Measia Lightspear, a Night Elven Priest, though her job was only served in emergencies and the daily running of Teldrassil.

Which still left the problem of being transported to another world. Every faction was having problems with the simple idea of it. Not to mention the damage the event had caused, which had earned itself the name Transition. Thanks to the efforts of Azeroth's shaman's, the worst of the quakes had been stopped or weakened, but not everywhere. Many towns and villages had taken substantial damage, many of which required new resources to rebuild. While he had sent what he could, but the war against the Legion had taken much in the way of supplies that would normally go to rebuilding.

The Horde was somewhat better off in some places, though not by much. And seeing how they had to trade for lumber, things were likely also tight in their own resource stores. Which brought them to a massive problem. What was on the other side of their new home, and how were they going to approach it? The Legion's reinforcements being cut was a massive boon, one that Matuk quickly took advantage of, and rightfully so. The heroes of both the Alliance and Horde stormed the Nighthold, making their way through the monsters held within.

The objectives were simple. Remove the Eye of Aman'Thul from enemy position, and remove the Nightwell's power from the Legion's arsenal. Eliminate Gul'dan, the strongest piece the Burning Legion had on Azeroth, and recover the body of Illidan Stormrage. Lastly, remove Elisande from power. None of those objectives had been completed, yet, but the last report he read made it seem like some were closing in on Elisande's inner sanctum.

Anduin didn't entirely like it. He knew negotiating with the Legion was useless, an impossibility and every sense of the idea. But the Nightborne weren't demons. They were elves. They could be reasoned with, and if the rebel movement was anything to go by, many didn't approve of the alliance with the Legion. He made several attempts to bring peace, to convince them to break off their pact, but Elisande remained unswayed.

He still felt bad, but by that point there wasn't much he could do. That's why he wanted the Heroes to handle it. An infiltration mission wouldn't cause the same damage or casualties as an outright invasion, a major reason why he supported it. Thankfully, the Warchief had the same sentiment.

Even the the Class Order's quickly beginning to gear up for the second assault on the Broken Shore, it didn't mean the Alliance and Horde weren't busy. The first and largest thing on the list was what to do about the Transition, and how to approach whatever might be on the other side of the world. Anduin would normal be content to leave it be, for the time being. There was simply no way of knowing if who, or more likely what, had brought them to this place was hostile or not. Anduin had already found himself in a war. He had no desire for a second one, regardless of cause. So he was content to let the force behind this to establish first contact. The Warchief was a different story. He could barely termer his curiosity with caution. While he agreed with Anduin's concerns, and knew he couldn't send any forces at the moment, he still thought it was a good idea to at least attempt to contact their new neighbors.

What had been delegated until they had dealt with the Legion had suddenly become a discussion of great importance over the last couple days. Not long after the Transition, reports started coming in about Kvaldir making their way around the southern and northern parts of the Eastern Kingdoms. No attacking anything. Just passing on through. And seeing as no settlements had reported attack from this force, meaning that this force was likely heading to the new landmass.

Which was a problem. The Kvaldir had made themselves a known annoyance after Helya's fall, striking shipping lanes and coastal settlements across Azeroth. It had been a common theory that they were trying to collect souls in an attempt to resurrect their master. Whether it was true or not was something nobody carried to find out, so what ship's weren't tied down at the Broken Isles were put on guard duty keeping Alliance and Horde settlements safe from attack. But now, they decided that this new place was a far better target. And as he understood it, Helya was what kept the Kvaldir in the world. The only reason they hadn't disappeared yet was because of her lingering essence.

And now they viewed this unknown landmass or mandmasses as an easier target. That was alarming, whether their mindset was true or not. He hoped it wasn't, But it meant there was at least sentient life, and it was abundant enough draw their attention. It was likely something they could handle themselves, but the Kvaldir were still dangerous, and if they managed to resurrect their master, then things would have gone from bad to worse. Helya was a problem that the Heroes of Azeroth had nipped at the bud, before the bulk of her forces had gained their momentum. Removing her caused the invasion force to scatter to the winds, only to be quickly picked off. What remained had been a thorn in everyone's backside. Their continued attacks cost lives, but at that point, they couldn't launch a counteroffensive.

So when the idea came up to launch a small fleet in to finish them off, he agreed, reluctantly. He didn't want to sent soldier's into a potential trap. However, they weren't sending in just soldiers. Multiple SI:7 agents were beings send, with the Horde bringing in several Shattered Hand agents. If the Kvaldir beat them to landfall, which was likely, the two intelligence groups would pair up with members of the Unseen Path. The Unseen Path was a group of hunters, trackers, beast tamers, things that would prove useful on this unknown continent. When they had found were the Kvaldir had struck, they would signal the fleet with a special long range flare. To increase safety, the small fleet would stick to the ley lines, with several ships being equipped with a special portal stone, allowing a portal to be anchored to a moving object. The primary goal was to defeat the Kvaldir, but if they also to just happen to save a town or two from being destroyed, then well, that was simply a good thing.

Anduin had been thankful that the ley lines had been spreading outwards since their arrival here. Many mages were worried about the ley lines vanishing, something that would lead to disaster. Most thought they would stay as they were, just merely halved. But the rapid expansion had been unexpected, but a blessing. If and when contact was established, if they were peaceful, the leylines would be allow for swift travel between continents. And if they weren't so fortunate, well, teleportation magic may not be common.

He looked over the papers again, simply to confirm what had been committed. A total of five destroyers, three battleships, four transports, and one carrier, were being sent in from each faction. That made the fleet size to a total of twenty-six. No submarines were being used for the mission, seeing as the goal was to avoid fighting on the open ocean. And sending more at that point wasn't much of an option. The fleet was already large enough, and adding more would make it seem like a full invasion force. Which would be bad, potentially sparking a war nobody wanted or needed. And seeing how the carriers were supposed to remain farther out, to act as support, and the transports were only there carry most of their ground forces. That was the reason both the destroyers and battleships were being sent, to keep the transports safe.

Anduin paused, looking over a single name. The commander of the Horde force was none other than High Overlord Saurfang. To say that the orc had a reputation was an understatement, and it was him, not Matuk, that likely would have been declared Warchief. And it was easy to see why. Saurfang was the veteran of almost every conflict since the First War, all the way to the current conflict with the Burning Legion. Hundreds of successful operations and campaigns. Calm, level headed, and a powerful warrior. Hardly any would ever be considered an equal.

X-x-x-x

Arraint let out a growl as she forced aside a branch with her hand. She was not exactly an expert on what type of animals were normally found on other worlds, but this was getting creepy. It had been two days since her and her partner made landfall, and yet there had been not a single exotic creature to be seen. In fact, everything had been animals that were normally seen on Azeroth! Rabbits, deer, and she was pretty sure there had been a bear following them for a short while.

Of course, it wasn't her job to catalog wildlife, but it was simply a habit she had picked up, and one that kept her alive in strange and new environments. But this just couldn't be one of them. She had been to different worlds before. The life there was alien, strange, and that made it dangerous. When dealing with a wild animal of any sort, the enemy was a lack of knowledge. What did it hunt, how did it fight, how did it use the terrain? Did it kill for it's meal, or did it eat plants? Did it have venom, could it breath fire?

All those questions would need to be answered before one could even attempt to tame an animal. Alongside proper treatment, to make sure they didn't run off, or better yet, not try to kill the one that tamed them. Almost if by habit, she scratched the small animal at her side, as it let out a happy low pitched keening noise in pleasure. Hutia was simply like that. Taming the creature had been a strange experience, almost as strange as the creature itself. It certainly wasn't a normal, living animal. It's body was a translucent green, spines coming out of it's back. It was a massive porcupine, like a spirit, but somehow solid. Of course, that wasn't her weirdest tamed pet, but Hutia was certainly up there.

She scratched Hati's head next. The wolf bit back a howl of an approval, lightning crackling along it's fur. Arraint never fully viewed the wolf has hers. She was merely borrowing the noble creature, it's life energy bound to Titanstrike, the massive rifle currently strapped to her shoulder. In reality, Hati worked with Thorim, and once she put down the weapon, it was to Thorim that she would return. Or, at least, this version of Hati. She wasn't the only one with Titanstrike, as mind boggling as the concept was. So she ignored it. She blamed the Bronze Dragonflight for that. It was a bit unfair, seeing as the Aspects lost most of their powers after the Cataclysm, but they would at least stop the same event repeating for different people! Or at least keep them from obtaining the same weapons!

Though, it did make fighting the Legion that much easier. Having hundreds of people running around with powerful artifacts, was certainly intimidating. Of course, having hundred up people with something dangerous made it a guaranty that one of those people would be an idiot. That was just simply a fact of life. Thankfully, artifacts seemed to have a sense of a person, able to understand their own desires, nor was every "classes" artifacts rarely compatible with one person. Most had one compatible artifact, two wasn't exactly uncommon, especially among Demon Hunters or other classes that made use of tanks or healers. Being able to utilize three was extremely rare, and no druid had been able to master all four. Yet.

"It took you long enough," a voice came from a small clearing ahead. Arraint scowled. Her partner was a human named Annadorsa, a rouge, and member of the SI:7. She wore the standard uniform, dark leather, covering its wearer from the neck down. The Dreadblades slung over her back marked her as a former Uncrowned agent.

"I'm assuming you had better luck finding where exactly the Kvaldir might strike?" she hissed, finally sitting down on a log. The plan was simple. Split up into pairs, find a settlement, and wait. They had already seen a few destroyed settlements. There was no telling if anyone survived or not. The natives of this land seemed to be aware of this, though, if what she had seen was the case.

Which brought her to the second piece of weirdness. So far, all the humanoid creatures she had seen were human. Nothing else. The Titan's had built countless worlds. What were the odds that the same species would exist on two separate ones? She didn't think that was likely. Then again, very, very little was actually known about the Titan's. It had become one of Azeroth's worst kept secrets that Azeroth was actually a Titan. Nobody knew how she would awake, when she would awake, or even if she could. The Sundering, the Cataclysm, and now this. If this didn't kill her, and if Magni said was true actually was, it certainly hadn't, then it should at least have an effect on if she would awaken. If she could awaken. That was a distinct possibility.

"Yeah, I have, about a two hour walk to the south. Nothing but humans, and from the looks of it, no actual fleet," Annadorsa frowned, "which shouldn't be the case. Everything is fishing ships. No military or merchant vessels."

"You're meaning to tell me that there no coastal defenses?" Arraint focused on that, rather than focus on the blatant admission to entering town, against orders at that. That explains why the other settlements had been leveled. It wasn't just the element of surprise. It was because there was nothing to rally a defense around.

"Yes, I am. It makes no sense. Unless they use airships for everything," she scoffed at the thought. Airships weren't easy to make, especially the massive warbirds that the Alliance and Horde could bring to bear. The cost was part of the reason both factions still used seafaring vessels as the bulk of their fleets.

Arriant frowned. That was interesting, if true. If they mastered the art building flying ships in mass, then that left them at a disadvantage if it came to an actual fight. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

"We'll keep an eye out, signal the fleet if something comes up," Arriant nodded to herself, ideas forming in her mind. They would have to play their hand at some point, and it was better to the savior rather than a passive bystander.

"And I have first watch. The only watch," she smirked as she watched her partner scowl. "After all, I am forsaken. I don't need rest like you do." Annadorsa sighed, giving up the fight before it could even begin.

"Fine," she muttered, laying down on her bedroll, seeing as the sun was slowly beginning to set.

"Hati, Hutia, I'm counting on you to keep an extra eye out, ok," Arraint felt the two animals nod in her mind, each one slinking off into the brush. Now, to wait.

X-x-x-x

Arraint took up a watchpost, looking down over the city. It wasn't exactly large, the peer itself was smaller than the one at Bladefist Bay. The port just outside Orgrimmar's walls had never been a large one. Ever since the goblin city an Aszuna was built, most trade would take the trip northward, and given the closeness of the two cities, Orgrimmar didn't need to worry so much about resupply. It was just downright sad. Even the old Silvermoon sea district was larger.

Then again, it wasn't fair to compare a town like this to the capital city of the Quel'dorei, in it's glory days. One of the things she remembered never having to deal with was the fog. It was thick. It clung to everything. It was a everywhere, like a sickness. This was standard Kvaldir practice. Shroud their strike point in magical fog, not only to help disguise their attack, but to hide their forms.

Fear. Despair. Hopelessness. Death. Weapons of war that the Kvaldir had long since perfected. It had taken month's in Northrend to find out if the things could actually be killed, and it their presence that forced the construction of Warsong Hold to be so far inland. A strategy immediately regretted when the Nerubians attacked. Yeah, it worked out in the end, but they nearly had to collapse the base on top off their nest. Northrend wasn't a pleasant place. She was thankful her still living relatives never had much part of the conflict.

"Anything?" Annadorsa questioned, also looking town from the overlook, likely having her own thoughts.

"Not since you asked five minutes ago," Arriant snapped, keeping the scope raised to her face. "They're staying inside, not that I blame them." The suspense was getting to her. Was this the real deal, or was this a natural occurrence? If her heart still beat, it would be in danger of bursting out of her chest.

"I swear, something in the universe decided to put us in the same group, and it is laughing," Anna sighed. Arriant agreed with that assessment. But that was irrelevant. They had a mission, personal feelings be damned.

"Quite," Arriant paused. There was movement. It wasn't the wind, for it was strangely still. It could be just people starting the day, finally. She kept the scope steady, squinting. No, it wasn't a Kvaldir. It was merely a child. And something else. Arriant reacted, and fired.

Lightning bolts hit speeds in excess of two hundred thousand miles per hour. Blink, and it will not be noticed. One billion joules of energy. Fired from a gun not even a mile away. Titanstrike roared, discharging a blast of nature's wrath. Nether speed or power were diminished by the weapon's frame.

Her target, a massive Kvaldir, spear raised high with the intent to kill, only to be impacted by death itself. Lightning coursed through his body, causing his physical form to break apart, the artificial shell that contained his soul shattering under the strain, falling into a pile of seaweed.

"We have contact!" she shouted, as if firing off a shot didn't make that obvious. As one, the two reached for the small flare gun attached to their waist, before firing. Two flares shot up, one royal blue, the color of the Alliance, and the other crimson red, the color of the Horde. They rose higher and higher, shining bright like small stars. It was a signal, and it would be answered by more than who it was meant to.


	4. Warzone

Julio let out a sigh as he looked down at his report. Another week, another coastal village that been destroyed. Again, it appeared to be from the exact same cause as the last one. Devoid of life, with bodies littering the earth they worked on, lesser noble and commoner alike struck down with what seemed like ease. The wounds that lead to their deaths were also the same, stabbing from what could have been massive swords and spears, while some appeared to have practically been devoured by some type of animal. A few bodies had shown signs of being drowned, despite the bodies being on dry land. That meant that theses attackers had at least a powerful line class water mage, if not one of higher rank.

It wasn't exactly uncommon for lesser nobility to turn to a life of crime. Sons and daughters beyond the first born inherited little, if nothing, of their parents estate and holdings, especially when they came from minor houses. Many worked among the commoners as a way to earn money, increasing the yield of fields of harvest, healing the wounded, heating the forges of smiths, and other minor jobs. It wasn't glories work, but as far as Julio was concerned, it was respectable. Unlike what they were dealing with here.

Even for marauding group of bandits, the attacks made little sense. No food was taken, no valuables whisked away. Plants were left in the ground, and each kill was marked by pure effecency. It was nothing more than brutal and senseless carnage. It was attack, that much, he was sure of. But from what nation? Tristain's regent, Cardinal Mazarin, was a devout member of the church, making such a move extremely unlikely, especially given the current situation they faced. They would need allies if they were to defend themselves from Albion, which, in reality, was the most likely cause. While the Civil War still raged on, it was clear that rebel force, under the command of Oliver Cromwell, a former priest, would claim victory. Julio wouldn't put it past the denounced priest to hire bandits to strike fear within the territory of their future enemies, but figured Tristain would be the first nation to suffer from such aggression, not Romalia. Gallia and their mad king? Possible. It was no real secret that Galia hired mercenaries to do their dirty work, even if the Church lacked the evidence to take action. Germania was under similar doubt as Tristain. While the massive nation never had the strongest ties with Romalia or the Church, it simply had no reason to take such action.

"Sir!" a voice shouted outside the small room he had been given. He frowned. He did not desire to be interrupted, however, it was likely important. He was the familiar of the Pope, after all, a secret known to none besides him and his master. He was a skilled dragon knight as well, something that made his promotion to that of a priest less contentious among the clergy.

"Come in," he said finally, as the door creaked open. The soldier on the other side was gasping for breath, brown hair drenched in sweat. Julio raised an eyebrow. He recognized the young soldier almost immediately. He had, well, recommended that the man be sent out to scout the waters off the coastline. Seeing as each destroyed village had been coastal, it was logical to conclude that the attacks were launched from a naval stage.

"Sir, you may want to look at this," the soldier started to regain his composure, handing Julio the paper in his hand. What was so important that this man would return from his assigned patrol ahead of schedule? Julio looked down at the paper. Oh. Julio's eyes widened with shock. That would do it. No nation in Halkeginia kept a ocean bound fleet anymore. And based on the drawings, this fleet was not from Halkeginia. The two symbols, while crudely drawn, were ones he did not recognize. Well, one of them, but it didn't match to any nation he knew of. The one he did know of was that head and mane of the lion. The second was indecipherable, certainly not taken from any natural creature. It was jagged and harsh, like some type of lopsided arch, with a diamond in the center.

"Sir!" another soldier slammed into the room, gasping for breath. "There's," he rasped, breathing heavily, Julio heard from outside the door, coming from the courtyard. He stood up, quickly making his way to the fortress's courtyard. Several gaps and pointed fingers pointed upwards gave the source of the disturbance. Two lights hung in the sky, blazing crimson and blue.

"Where did those come from?" Julio asked, turning around to the captain of the fort. He didn't think it had anything to do with the attacks. At least, not directly. Something like this would have been impossible to miss, and would certainly be in the report. No this was something else. But he didn't know what. It was clearly a signal of sorts. But why two flares at the same time? The newfound fleet was a potential, but if that was the case, it make no sense to use two flares. While it did seem like there were two distinct forces, if they working together, one should prove sufficient. Unless the two groups didn't trust each other, but if that was so, why would they be working together in the first place?

Nor were the flares behaving like normal magic flares, which were already failing and flickering.

"They appear to have come from Sanremo, sir. Just south of Cittadella," the commander said as he entered the courtyard in full armor. Cittadella was a port fortress and city, the largest on the coastline. It was a wonder that it hadn't been attacked yet, despite the defenses lining the harbor and walls. A valuable target, but also, a dangerous one. Cittadella was a vital trading hub, connecting land, sea, and sky.

Sanremo had none of that. Merely a small fishing village. No cannons, and one or two mages, none of them landowning nobility. A few boats, little to no natural defenses, with the commoners having no skill in combat.

"I assume you want a patrol sent to scout out the area?" Julio frowned at the question. Yes, it would certainly was to send out a scouting party, especially now. For all they knew, this could be an invasion force making landfall. But how did such a fleet get close in the first place? And more importantly, way haven't they been discovered sooner?

"Yes," Julio finally nodded. The threat as it stood was far too great to ignore. He would accompany the force, naturally, and if all else failed, he could simply use his connection to his master to warn him of the incoming invasion.

X-x-x-x

"Keep falling back!" Arraint shouted, firing a wild rounds out of Titanstrike, forcing a few Kvaldir to slow their advance. Things had gone poorly from the start. Even in long range mode. The gun had only hut a handful of its marks, but alerting the townsfolk that something was awry. Of course, she was the first target of their supposition, for all likely the right reasons. A strange person with glowing red eyes and a weapon they've never seen before shows up in town, so it was natural to have some suspicion. What she hadn't expected was the complete and total panic her partner slapped off her hood on accident. Seeing as she was a former Dark Ranger, she was certainly better off than most of the Forsaken, in terms of physical appearance. Even in death, her body had a strange type of beauty to it, ashen skin, red eyes, black hair, almost a twisted copy of her appearance in life.

It wasn't her features as an undead that caused the panic, it was her features as a former elf. The moment her ears were exposed to open air, there was screaming, a brave few grabbing their weapons, but the rest scattering into the mists. It hadn't been until one of the Kvaldir hounds had bound away with a child that any attempt to convince them that no, they weren't the ones attacking them, had been successful. The villagers still clearly weren't happy about this impromptu alliance, but seeing how this was the best chance of survival, in this case, and the hope that the Church would turn a blind eye.

Arriant lept of the barricade, Titanstrike shifting in her hand, pulling the trigger five times. The gun roared as each arc of lightning catching their target square in the chest, destroying the Kvaldir attackers in a shower of sparks, allowing for the small group of men to make their way to cover. It was clear these humans were not fighters. They had no experience in combat, and were as such, practically being slaughtered. While Kvaldir themselves were created from the souls of Vrykul that had died dishonorably, they still retained the savage strength and power found in all Vrykul, giving them a considerable advantage over their descendants.

Some of them, at least. What humans lacked in strength was made up in intellect. A genus among the Vrykul would likely match an slightly above average human, with only exceptions being ones that had lived for centuries. One of those had ever existed, and he had been killed. Twice, actually. The first time, he was serving under the Lich King, which ironically enough, led to his service under Helya.

Thankfully, she had heard rumors that Oydn had purified his soul, so they wouldn't be facing him again this day. He was dangerous before, channeling the long dead spirits of Vrykul kings. Helya only gave him the power to command the dead and use shadow magic. Honestly, she would much rather fight the second version. Less time spent dealing with her living allies bleeding ears.

Arraint peeked around the corner slightly as a pistol fired. Almost immediately, she ducked down, as one of the Kvaldir's hounds lept over the makeshift defenses.

"Hati, Hutia. Kill," the order was unneeded, the mental link would have conveyed the command just as well. Hati's fangs ripped into its flank, and Hatia's spikes skewered flesh. It was just something about just saying it that made a twinge of satisfaction run down her spine.

"If someone told me we would be working with an undead elf that could command animals on voice alone, in order to save our village from living ghosts, I would have told them to stop drinking," one of the two mages chuckled nervously, as if the whole situation was unbelievable. Arraint merely laughed to herself. While it certainly didn't feel as strange, which wasn't saying much, given her crazy life the last couple decades, it was certainly odd for her. Human's that didn't descend from Vrykul and thought Elfs were complete masters of destruction were it would take an army to slay small force, and even then it wouldn't be an easy victory? Madness.

"You think that's strange, wait till you see a worgen on griffin back!" Androsa shouted somewhere to their right, the two pistols normal carried in her sleeves firing wildly at an target that entered her range, leaving her primary weapons, the Dreadblades, hanging off her wrists. Normally, Arriant would chastise her partner for not using the most dangrous weapons in her arsenal, but they were designed for close quarters. Not for holding a point at range, and rouge's weren't exactly durable. Nimble, and while her armor's natural enchantments reached the of lightweight chainmail armor, numbers did matter quite a bit. And she'd much rather not see if this world had it's own spirit menders, or if her charmed unlife would still hold weight. Would the ones on Azeroth even have a reach that massive? She didn't want to die and end up in some random graveyard in the Eastern Kingdoms.

"I would do for some of those so called 'goblin flyers' at this point. Support from the air would nice at this point!" one of the villagers shouted from the left. An old military veteran, from the sound of it. No wonder he was among those that had lasted this long. Arraint and Anna both shared the sentiment. Anna had always been a lone wolf, preferring to strike from stealth against key targets. The few times she was forced into mass engagements, it was typically with those she had trusted. Unlike her younger counterpart, Arriant prided herself on the fact she was a member of the Northrend offensive, used to anything from covert to frontline operations. She was used to things going wrong, at the wrong possible time in the worst possible way.

A rain of arrows and spears fell from the sky. Gunshots hailed down and lightning flashed through the air.

"M'am, Lass!" two voices echoed from above. Dirt was sent into the air as two mounts landed on the ground. A griffin, a beast with the head, wings, and talons of an eagle, with the hindquarters of a lion, exactly like it's Halkeginian counterpart. But instead of a mage sitting on it's back, there was a small, angry Dwarf shaman. Member of the Wildhammer Clan, one of the three dwarven clans. While the Dark Iron and Ironbeard clans were known for their smithing, the Wildhammer were known for their connection to the elements and their griffins.

Considered some of the best fliers in all the Alliance, even putting Gnomish gyrocopter pilots to shame. Combining their affinity for lightning and wind with martial prowess, they made for extremely dangerous fighters especially in the skies.

That wasn't to say wyvern riders were slouches, either. While it lacked in shamanic reinforcement and very few of it's members made use of firearms, but they, alongside their mounts, were savage fighters, using spears, javelins, and their own mounts claws and fangs, to rend through flesh and bone. Wyverns themselves were temperamental mounts, similar to manticores. In fact, the two species could be mistaken for the other.

"We those transport ships to make landfall, now!" Arraint shouted as Titanstrike kicked in her hands. The cavalier may have finally arrived, but they only had so many ranged options before they had to resort the strafing runs. Her encounters with Vrykul forever convinced her that strategy was a bad idea.

"We can't, mon, not until all the Kvaldir ships are sunk," the troll shouted back. "We can keep you covered until then, but there's another group of fliers coming in from the north." Arraint scowled. Things were going bad to worse. Whatever nation they were in had sent military reinforcement. Originally, she was worried about the aftermath, when the Kvaldir had faded away into seaweed. No proof of their claims meant things could go rapidly south. But after the reaction's from the villagers, she was worried about this being an instance of shoot first, ask questions later. And no member of the Horde would stand for having one of their own killed. She would much rather not be the result of a war Azeroth could ill afford.

"Leave them. If we try to shoo them away, it'll likely be taken as a sign of aggression. Let's just hope cooler heads prevail this time," Anna ordered. While Arraint did have her complaints, it was for the best. The consequences could be dealt with later. If worst did come to worst, they could simply take the villagers with them. Those willing, anyway. Better than being put to the sword.

"Keep to the sky. I want those Kvaldir pinned down!" she shouted. The commands were quickly obeyed, mounts lifting off the ground and into the air, leaving dust in their wakes. The mist prevented either of them from seeing what was happening directly, but the foreign shouting and the sudden lack of spears was enough of a sign. Another volley of lead balls joined the onslaught, cracking against wood. Nothing ultimately lethal, unfortunately, but the two pronged assault forced them further behind cover.

Arriant aimed Titanstirke, pulling the trigger, sending a jolt of electricity towards her target. The impact shattered the wall, creating a shower of splinters. With their sudden loss of cover forced to take another volley of gunshots, lead spheres impacting into the Kvaldir's bodies. The volley wasn't lethal, but the ones that weren't hit quickly abandoned their wounded, only to be gunned down by more powerful and accurate azerothian rifles.

"What did you tell them?" a voice shouted from her left. Right, they didn't speak orcish, or even common. They strangely spoke a more sophisticated version of Gutterspeak, the native tongue of the Forsaken. Meaning she was the one on translation duty, even after the fighting ended, most likely.

"To keep them back and stick to the sky. It seems your own military has come to join us," Arriant grabbed and fired a flare into the mists. The cheering she heard was good enough. Now if she could just avoid setting off a war.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Julio looked over the battleground. Or the mist that hung over the battleground like a sheet. The flashes that he could see, likely the discharge of firearms, were clustered in two locations. The furthest away was the bay, the dull thud of cannons reaching his ears. It was evident the fleet had indeed moved, but a few ships were hanging back. A total of ten ships. He wasn't familiar with naval craft, but eight seemed to have a similar design to old transports. It was the two beyond the transports that concerned him. They were low to the water, and lengthy. No form of obvious defenses. They were even hiding behind the transports.

Most of the ships were missing, though, likely hidden in the mist. But it didn't seem like they were firing into the village, and the transports were keeping away from the fighting. Was it possible that they hadn't deployed their forces yet? Then what, exactly, were they fighting? Julio's eyes twitched as they caught movement below them. Shadows seemed to flicker through the mist. The beat of wings. His eyes widened in shock. Griffins and manticores filled the air, wheeling through the sky. Settled on their backs were humanoid figures, some covered with fur, skin a rainbow of colors, purple, blue, and green.

And none of them looked like mages. Spears, bows, and firearms rained from above, striking at targets he couldn't see. Then, there was one. Short and stocky, with a beard like a fire, unleash lightning from the sky itself. But there was no wand held in his hands, rather, two hammer's, raised up as the heavens unleashed their screams of fury onto targets below.

"That man doesn't have a wand," one of the soldier's near him gasped, as Julio frowned. What he was seeing certainly wasn't magic. At least, magic he was familiar with. It took a triangle class wind mage to even cast lightning spells in the first place. The power of the spells would symbolize a minimum power of a mid level square class mage. However, spells weren't coming from the hammers. It was nature itself. Firstborn magic. The magic of the elves. That was heresy, and impossible. No mortal could be able to wield such power. And yet, here one was. Thankfully, none of his men had put that together. Elves had not been seen in generations, thankfully, and he was one of the few truly aware of their appearance, beyond their ears, which was well known and recorded.

Now that he looked further, the flashes had a pattern. A half circle, in front of what could easily be a building. The air combatants also seemed focused on a single area, filling it with death from above. He recognized the movement. The fighting in the bay, and the conflict here. It was a pincer movement. Brutally and efficiently executed. But it didn't explain who, or what, they were fighting. Julio needed answers, and the only way he was going to get them was down below.

"Hold until I give the signal!" he ordered, the mount underneath him pulling into a dive, passing through the mist. Julio held his breath, for the mist had the smell of rot and bloated corpses. The dragon landed with a thud, drawing the attention of a few commoners, as he looked over the sight before him. Several boats had been faced upwards, forming domes of cover, many of their hulls punctured by massive spears. Most of the defenders would pop out to take a shot, with a spear occasionally picking one off.

The sound of a crack drew his eye to a figure that didn't seem to be worried about her lack of cover. Two swords were strapped to her back, the pair looking like twin cutlasses. Extremely large cutlasses at that. She fired the pistols in her hand without care, not appearing to reload.

A roar of thunder was next, one that did not come from above. Julio's eyes flickered to the right, and widened. Ears. Long, pointed ears. An elf, at first glance. But everything else was wrong. Rather than pale skin, hers was like ash. Rather than blonde, her hair was black. Rather than blue eyes, her own glowed crimson. This was no elf he was familiar with. They all knew Firstborn Magic. They didn't use…

BOOM! The gun in her hands discharged a bolt of lightning. Julio was certain that his master felt his own surprise through their link. Maybe not a normal elf, but still dangerous. He need to get her attention somehow.

"You, blondy with the blue cloak! Are you here to help, or to just stand around and quack all day?" the elf like being suddenly snapped. Well, that was made easier.

"Who are you?" he asked calmly, slowly making his way to cover, eying her cautiously. She picked up on the movement, as annoyance flashed across her face.

"We are in a middle of a battle, and you ask me who I am?" she fumed, poking her head out of cover, only to quickly bring it back just before a spear impacted the dirt. "I'm going to tell you the only things that should really matter at the moment. I'm a member of the Horde, and currently, the same things trying to harvest the souls of your people also want me dead. Anything else can wait."

The elf certainly was aggressive, but not hostile. There was truth to her words, even though her comment about souls concerned him. What beings possessed such power? At that, what was this Horde? He had never heard of such a group. Or was it alliance of sorts? But those questions didn't change the fact that the commoners they should be protecting were relying on the help of outsiders. Then again, without those outsiders, this village, and its inhabitants, would be just another tally mark of casualties, with their killers escaping justice.

"What do you need?" he asked. The female's frown grew bigger, as a look of contemplation drew across her face.

"We have wounded in the church, so send whatever healers you have there. Better fortifications would be efficient, and so would having the mist gone," she said finally, before popping off another blind shot, almost emphasizing her point. Julio thought quickly. Finding water mages was no issue, even among a dragon core, with the vast majority being wind mages, so this mist shouldn't be much of an issue anyway. The fortifications, on the other hand, would be a larger issue. No natural earth mages would sign up in an aerial unit, and even if they had, it would likely result in rejection.

"I'll see what I can do," Julio stated, telepathically calling on his mount. Now how to get this to actually work.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Convincing the soldiers under his command to work with the elf like being was not easy, even with her assurance of an actual explanation once the battle was won. They did have problems with their deployment, however. Much rather than leave them in the sky, she wanted the mages on the ground, leaving aerial combat to her own forces. However, Julio couldn't argue with the effects of her tactics. Much of the mist had been cleared from the immediate area, allowing them to catch their first sight of the enemy. Each of these giants were ugly, easily twice the size of a normal man, bodies that appeared to be made from seaweed.

With the mists gone, their massive bodies were easy targets. Kvaldir, as he had heard them being called, became far less mysterious and deadly with their concealment gone. Though that could have just been the massive mounds of dirt that had been erected, protecting both the mages working their spells and the commoners. The Kvaldir were driven back. And that was when the sound of drums became heard, followed by cries for war. The mist shattered, the last of the mistcallers perishing. If this was what the Horde looked like, then they had already lost. He could recognize only one race outright, the minotaur, but it certainly didn't act like one. It may have been on the frontlines, but it seemed to be more focused on safeguarding, if not outright healing others, rather than slaughter. He saw pointed ears again, but they were still different. One was close enough were on first glance, he almost thought it was an elf. It was only afterwards that he noticed the sickly green glow in it's eyes. The second certainly did not fit. Dark purple skin was the most notable, followed by leaf green hair.

He looked at one of the two leading the charge. One was human, which made him far less interesting than his counterpart. He was massive, a hulking figure of muscle and strength, wielding a giant blade in each hand. He was covered from head to toe in armor, most likely plate. Julio watched as he easily tore a Kvaldir in half with a single swing. The rest of the force followed, crushing what remained under a tide of steel. Knights in full plate used their shields to cover their allies, allowing them to attack without fear of retaliation. The spellcasters and archers kept back, unleashing a tide of magic and arrows onto their foes.

It didn't take long for the attack force to reach them. The Kvaldir were caught between them, and the advancing tide of steel. Without a way to retreat they were swiftly crushed.

"Admiral!" the language was similar to that spoken in Albion. The human that had fought with them saluted, her firearms no longer in her grasp.

"Warchief. To whom do we owe the honor?" the elf bowed slightly. Warchief? A fitting title, Julio supposed. Standing within the presence of the man made him feel small. The armored figure chuckled, catching him off guard.

"To your Pope, I do believe. It seems he would like to talk with us about what has transpired this day, and what it means for both our worlds."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

And that's a wrap! Sorry I haven't been able to update anything in so long. I had a World Pre-history paper and a Mythology project that has kept me occupied for the last month. Oh well. I hoped you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you for the next chapter!


	5. Diplomacy

In the day's since the discovery of both the Alliance and the Horde, the capital of Romania was in a state of chaos. Any attempt to keep the arrival of newcomers silent was meet with resounding failure. It wouldn't have been a surprise if the news had already reached the other nations at this point, even with factions swearing to keep out of their affairs until they had more information.

There was a reason the city was a chaotic mess. Bishops, priests, and cardinals from across the continent, had converged on the capital for the momentous event. While many lower ranking members would only be allowed to observe. The other higher ranking members were there to not only help negotiate the terms but advise the Pope himself. Not that he had already done a lot to allow this meeting to even happen.

Even the simplest of interactions dispelled many notions about Azeroth's native races. Azeroth's Orcs lacked the size and bulk of their Halkeginia counterparts, making up for it with vastly greater intellect. In fact, Halkeginian Orcs had far more in common with another Azerothian race, ogres. The only similarity between the two different types of orcs was their green skin, and even then, that wasn't the original coloring for Azeroth's own, with a few being brown or even red in tone.

But that was minor compared to the Elves, Forsaken, and the Knights of the Ebon Blade. The condition of the members of the Ebon Blade, was, for the most part, easy to dismiss in the eye's of Brimir. There was nothing ever said about being stuck between life and death, even if that line had been blurred nearly into obscurity. It's open use of necromancy was not. While it's members had the good sense to not bring any undead abomination, controlled or not, onto the continent, it still left many uneasy, if not outraged. It didn't help much that the method was far less understood than on Halkeginia. A skilled water mage could control the dead until the body decayed, but the death knights could hold their creations together well beyond that. But a death knight? They seemed to use their own magic to hold together a body tell it was nothing but bones. Many also saw perversion in the battle style of blood, which made use of the bones of their enemies as armor and the lifeforce of enemies to mend their own wounds. Because of that, they were the largest sore eye for Azeroth as a whole.

The Forsaken were surprisingly, slightly better off. The undead race had caused uproar at first, even more so than the Ebon Blade. The Val'kyr, who had entered a pact with their former leader, Sylvanas Windrunner, were used to raise the dead. Not to create mindless abominations, like the Ebon Blade's ghouls, but other Forsaken, which were given a choice. Serve, forge your own path, or return to the grave. What made the Forsaken unique in the eyes of the church was that they seemed to retain their soul. That fact made them a curiosity in the church's eyes, and possibly, even redeemable from their state.

The Elven races as a whole were different. Elves had been the enemy of man since the days of the Founder himself, yet the Alliance and Horde had a combined total of three branches of this race, with even more on Azeroth itself. However, none of them matched the tales. The Blood Elves magic was no different than the humans, Night Elves druidism had also been picked up by other mortal races. There appeared to be no inherent elven magic on Azeroth. And that was ignoring their appearances. The Night Elves skin ranged from purple, to pink, to even blue at times, with hair being shades of blue, green, and silver. Their eyes also contained a silvery hue, a trait only shared by the Nightborne. The offshoot of the Elven race was not present, but all of the people that had interacted with them saying they had more in common with the Night Elves and either the High or Blood Elves.

The Blood and High elves were the closest of the elves, and the most human like in appearance. Similar hair and skin colors, with the only difference the classic ears and glowing eyes. Those every same eyes were the fastest way to tell the difference between the two groups. High Elves took on a pure blue hue, a contrast to the sickly green of the Blood Elves. While the differences between the two people's was mostly political in nature, both had a focus on magic and archery. With their magic being no different from their human counterparts. In fact, it was the elves that gave Azeroth's humans the knowledge to work magic.

Much of the argument against the meeting had fallen apart more and more each time new information was revealed. Claims that Tauren were nothing more than savage minotaurs were struck down when history showed Tauren to be one of the most peaceful races on Azeroth. Trolls were nothing but cannibals. A tradition the Darkspear rejected when they joined the Horde. Humans little more than a group of heretics. In the eyes of Brimic Law, they might not be considered human, being the descendants of a race of giants. Goblins being unintellegent thieves and child killers. Actually responsible for some of the most explosive devices native to Azeroth.

The Horde and Alliance military forces were also major cause for concern. The two factions weren't the only military powers on Azeroth, but they were certainly the strongest. This was something neither side denied, though the explanation was perplexing. Both had clashed throughout their history of coexistence, each prior cycle of violence merely adding to the kindling. Ultimately the two had just been on another collision cross if it wasn't for the disappearance of two faction leaders, and the deft political minds of their successors.

That tension was still there, and the fears of war had brought forth another political force into the playing field. The twelve Orders, as they were collectively known as, were a birthed from fear of the coming storm. This move was performed out of necessity, rather than malice. It was odd that some would push aside decades old loyalties for something that seemed to be a regular occurrence.

Ironically, the reason behind the twelve's formation and why Halkegenia had nothing to fear from Azeroth's military forces. They were tied down by another threat. Something they called the Burning Legion. What history this Burning Legion shared with both factions, no, Azeroth itself, was clearly quite long. And enough that under normal circumstances, they would both work together to stop the threat. In the beginning, they had.

A cooperation that was nearly short lived. At the Tomb of Sargeras, the center and the main point of entry for the Legion's forces, a trap had been set. One that had early cost both the Horde and Alliance everything. After, they had almost fallen for the second. The demise of former High King Varian Wrynn and Warchief Vol'jin had nearly caused both factions to start ripping out the other's throat. If it wasn't for the fact the two had began a retreat, Romania wouldn't be having a diplomatic season with its newfound neighbors, but much rather beating back a horde of relentless demons.

Julio looked down at the gathering masses. Even he was surprised by the amount of delegates that had arrived. A leader from each of the races, alongside the head's of their factions, joined by both Alliance and Horde representatives of the orders. That was ignoring the handful of advisors. He could only make out a few people he recognized from the thong. High King Anduin Wrynn was the first to stick out in his eyes. In a way, the young man reminded him of Vittorio, his own master. Rumor had it that his father, Varain, the former High King, often turned to his son when a situation required a more level head. He was also a priest studying under Prophet Velen, the leader of the Draenei.

The prophet was also an easy find. Julio didn't know anything at all about how Draenei were supposed to age, but Velen looked well beyond old. Ancient would be the best word to describe him. Whatever his age, Velen was likely one of, if not the, most experienced politician in the room.

Of course, then there was the Warchief. It was impossible to forget a person like him. Powerfully built, even by Orc standards, combined with a startling level of intellect. Matuk took to his mantle well enough. A warrior, and one of great strength at that. It was no wonder that a race that prided itself on strength would follow him. The respect he had from the other races of the Horde spoke wonders. The Trolls, still reeling from the death of their leader, even had enough trust in him to fill that role for the time being.

It took time for the delegates began to sit down. Both factions shared one side of the table, with the Pope and several Bishops being directly across. The orders filled out the sides. Now he knew a few people, if only by name. Marlexana, one of the Netherlords, a young Blood Elf who was a master summoner. Both Deathlords, the Blood Elf Linthice and the human Nero, were present. As were the Highlords of the Silver Hand, Sunwalker Abwah, and Vindicator Maanos. The Paladins close allies, the priests, had sent both of their leaders, Jaafan the troll, and Advil, one of the Dwarves.

Others, like the leaders of the Demon Hunters, both Battlelords, the Huntmasters, a Gnome Magi from the Tirisgarde, and the remaining order leaders, barring the Uncrowned, were present. Personally, Julio found the sheer volume of people unnecessary. Even with the four missing members, the order's alone totaled at twenty, and the Alliance and Horde brought close a dozen. Meanwhile, Romania only had seven in total at the table. A strange reversal of how things normally were. It could have been, to, but Vittorio decided that it was best that the whole event was done at once. By doing so, the affair could be finished in a few days, rather than the weeks, if not more, had they meet each group separately. In that time, tensions would have heated up, due to the heavy increase in workload over an extended period of time. Additionally, if gave both factions a degree of transparence in their dealings with Romania. Hopefully, this will allow the tensions to stay at a low, or, at least, not progress any further.

"Thank you all for arriving here today. It is a honor to have two nations here today. I and many others hope that at this session's end, we will be well on our way to a lasting peace between our notions," Vittorio raise for his seat, signaling that the conference had just begun. Julio knew he was showing off at this point. His master was a cunning politician, despite his youth. All this really was to shut down any argument the extremists had for war.

Such ideas were the pinnacle of foolishness. The mere threat of the Burning Legion alone would be more than enough incentive to leave Azeroth be, if not outright aid them. Even the elves paled in comparison to the Legion's atrocities. Truth was at times stranger than any story, and there were plenty of infamous ones to go around. Even without the threat of total annihilation hanging over their heads, Halkegenia was in no shape for a war. Albion was in the middle of a revolutionary war, and the crown was losing ground swiftly. Tristain, one of the smallest of the Brimiric nations, would like be it's next target, and as such, they were preparing to enter a political marriage with the Germanian Emperor. Germainia itself had never seen eye to eye with the church, and by extension, Romania. The Horde and Alliance with their advanced technology might actually make swift allies with the nation, and many Goblin trading clans were already drooling at the prospect. Lastly, there was Gallia. Romania had actually been losing influence in the country over recent years, so the odds of them answering the call for a crusade was quite low.

Which meant if Romania wanted war, it would have to fight on it's own. In truth, the only real advantage their military had was in the air. However, their flying machines made it far closer than many would like to admit. And if they had mastered technology like that, surely they had airships of their own. Why such device's weren't deployed was beyond him. Prephase both factions didn't want to appear too aggressive? Then again, Azeroth's forces were walking into the situation blind. Of course, the Legion seemed to take priority over much else, so much weapons were likely deployed elsewhere.

"It is an honor indeed," Matuk spoke calmly, while not rising from his set, giving a quick nod of respect. The orc wore ceremonial armor, one that had been worn by a predecessor by the name of Thrall. Why someone would willingly refer to themselves as a slave was beyond him.

"I thank you for having us today," Anduin spoke up as well. The boy was wearing gold and blue robes, with the most notable part being the lion head embroidery in the cloth. Yes, a lion, because apparently, Azeroth had those. Fitting for the Alliance to have a motif of such an animal. Though it didn't seem to fit the young king, but it likely fit his father, if even half the stories were true.

From the higher reaches of the chapel, he couldn't hear what was said next, even with the wind mages amplifying their voices. Whatever was said however, did catch the attention of several. The remark came from Bishop Antonio. Out of the seven, he was the most against the newcomers, and smart enough to not call for war. However, he was vocal about keeping the factions at an arm's length. Antonio cared little for what they managed to accomplish in driving out the Kvaldir that had begun attack Romania's coastal villages, and more about the fact the launched a military fleet, unknowingly, into sovereign waters. He viewed it as a reckless act and a direct threat to Romania. Not only that, the ideological disconnect was to vast and dangerous to be allowed to anchor its roots.

Out of all of the reasons, that was among the ones that actually had merit. The Horde by itself was the furthest by far, with the closest possible nation related Germinia, taken to a greater extreme. Magic worked differently on Azeroth, and the mages were not rulers, nor did they see themselves as having the right to rule. That and the Horde didn't have much in the way of traditional governance. Nearly half the races that made up the alliance were less than decades away from tribal societies. The Blood Elves had a Regent, but the royal line had been killed off merely a year or so after they joined the Horde. The Legion was to blame for that as well. With the Forsaken being lead by their old leader's second in command, and the Goblin's system being little more than a confusing mess, the Horde simply was a mad clash of cultures and leadership.

Not that the Alliance in ways was much better. Both the Draenei and the Elves were ruled in a similar method to Romania, just that their religious heads simply lived for a very long time. The faith the two had, however, couldn't be more different. Draenei followed the path of the Light and the Naru, while Night Elves worshiped a moon Goddess by the name of Elune. Azeroth's dwarves did have a King, but after an event that turned him into a statue made of diamond, they now had a ruling council. Three clans, three hammers. Gnomes chose their leader based on who was the most skilled inventor. The Gilneans had their own king, who had gone missing in recent months, and with the sole heir to the throne also vanishing, their was a great deal of contention between normal humans and those suffering from a Worgen Curse. Whatever that meant.

"An interesting question," the Warchief responded, breaking Julio from his thoughts. "The Kvaldir were lead by Hela before her death, and it was only a matter of time before the magic holding them together faded. We merely reinforced our coastal defenses and shipping lanes, and focused on our primary objective."

"If it was that simple, why make a move then?" the Bishop said in turn. Julio frowned. This was a wonderful start. What was Vittorio planning? Matuk didn't seem offended by the remark.

"Where they were, the Kvaldir were contained. Unable to do much damage or accomplish their goals. After the Transition, they immediately headed for Halkegenia. We had no idea why, but they clearly felt that it would be easier to achieve. So it was agreed upon to send a small joint fleet to defeat the Kvaldir and possibly add any natives we found," the Orc spoke. The Bishop seemed to flinch at that. The last part seemed to have shattered what argument Antonio had planned. Though a two dozen ship fleet being considered small by their standard raised a question about exactly how large their navy was. Julio had to admit, adding the last line was pure genius, if a bit much.

"What I think many of us are truly interested in is the Legion," Vittorio spoke, finally getting down to the main issue. Rather than speak again, Matuk gave a nod to the only Netherlord present.

"The Burning Legion is a force of demons that seek to destroy all worlds and life in existence. Naturally, these demon's vary in strength, size, intelligence, and type. We don't know exactly how successful their crusade has been, but Azeroth has been a particular thorn in their backside," she paused for a short breath, before resuming. "This is the third major direct invasion they have launched against Azeroth, and they've displayed an array of extremely advanced technology."

Her statement cause Julio to raise an eyebrow, as muttering took hold around him. He had seen Azeroth's own level of when it came to advanced weapons, so if she said the Legion had even more advanced technology, than the statement carried considerable weight. And a grave warning.

"This is the largest threat on any battlefield," the warlock continued, holding out her hand, as energy began flowing into a device placed on the table. The top opened, as the light admitted began to change in space. "It is clearly not to scale, of course, but this, is a standard Legion cruiser. If you're thinking it doesn't look like a threat, then you are extremely incorrect. Each of these warships carry an array of heavy fel cannons and a central energy beam, both of which are used to bombard enemy defensive positions and structures. Their armor is resistant to the strongest of armor, and it takes an excessive amount of spellwork to even began to cripple one."

The muttering was only getting worse. What exactly was she thinking? Julio knew she was simply going over it's usage and capacities, but she was making it sound like the things wear unstoppable. Which, based on how she was speaking, wasn't the case.

"In fact, smaller variations of this particular vessel are known to embed themselves inside a planet's crust, allowing them to serve as a command center and defensive base," Marlexana paused for a moment, likely for effect. "This tactic, however, leaves them dangerously exposed, and almost trivial to destroy, barring the demons now guarding it. The larger ones have a much similar weakness. While their exterior is extremely durable, the interior is a softer chaotic mess. A handful of high powered explosives is more than enough to set off a chain reaction that will bring down the whole ship. Seeing how the Legion built these craft with bombardment in mind, they lack quality air defenses, which makes this the easiest and safest part." Julio frowned. The best way to destroy a demon infested vessel was to board said demon infested vessel? Effective and the best strategy? Maybe. Easy? Most certainly not. If this was the most successful strategy they had devised, what did it say about why they were up against.

"On the ground, Legion tactics typically focus around frontline assaults, using felguards as frontline soldiers, and summoned infernals to break apart enemy lines. Felhounds typically will then go after caster's in an attempt to drain them of their magic," that was as far as she got before the noise simply became too much. The legion had developed a race capable of devouring magic. Even if it was temporary, the mere idea was nothing short of heresy to most. As a familiar to a void mage, Julio knew of the Founder's dispel, a spell that destroyed any form of magic it came into contact with. While this didn't seem similar, the shear fact the Legion could breed such beasts was just as alarming as all the other information. He was beginning to question how exactly Azeroth had lasted for so long against such odds, and for this to be the third.

"Moving on," Mar continued, quickly deciding it was best to move away from a sensitive topic. "Nathrezim are some of the most dangerous demons in both terms of magical power and intellect." More than a few sitting at the table nodded in agreement.

"They were the first beings to discover necromancy, with the first reports being set during the time of the War of the Ancients," what made Julio frown about that statement was that she typically started with the easiest parts first. "They are also masters of illusion, and shapeshifting, making them excellent infiltrators, spies, assassins, and saboteurs. Thankfully, Illidari have the ability to detect demonic presence, and seeing that Nathrezim are powerful demons, they have a hard time hiding themselves from Illidari eyes."

Julio nearly felt the air enter his lungs after that one. Something told him that having an Illidari detachment being stationed at the capitol was going to be a talking point in the future, but that was an acceptable loss. There was likely a good reason she brought it up. Hopefully, anyway.

"While I think I've taken a bit too much time, there is one last thing I would like to cover. The Legion's leadership," Marlexana's words took on a tone of seriousness, one that Julio had not expected. It wasn't surprising that she would bring something like this up. "Archimonde and Kil'jaeden are the two lieutenants of the Legion. Archimonde is the leader of most standard invasion forces, and he leads his forces from the front, once his forces on the ground muster enough energy to summon him into a world. He has an unknown number of successes, but only a handful of failures as far as we know. However, we know for a fact he is not the one leading this assault, seeing as during an engagement on another world known as Draenor, he pulled his attackers into the Twisting Nether. The one place where a demon is the strongest, but also the only place they can permanently be killed. Seeing as the force that he took with him came out, it's like Archimonde is dead." Julio frowned. That would normally be cause for celebration, but why didn't she make it sound like it?

"Kil'jaeden is the one likely leading this assault. If Archimonde is the cruel, brutal, and tactically genius hammer, then Kil'jaeden is the manipulative, cunning, and intelligent knife. He is known to corrupt races and individuals with promises of their greatest desires, transforming them into demonic servants and soldiers. He has had a hand in creating many of the Legion's most dangrous weapons. And sadly, both of them pale in comparison to the Legions true master…" Marlexana paused for breath, but the fact that the Illidari were on edge drew her attention.

The sound was like loud, almost like that of a cannon. Each dull thud sent shakes throughout the massive chappel. Suddenly, the wall shattered. What could now be seen of a once blue sky was now green, as if on fire. But whatever glimpse could be gained of the outside was closed as a giant flaming fist reached into the building.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sorry that Marlexana got such a massive speaking roll this chapter. I wanted to at least prepare those who aren't so familiar (which likely isn't much), with the legion, some of the demons among their ranks, how exactly big of a threat they are.

I hope to see you all next time, and I hope you enjoyed.


	6. Battle for Romania

An author's note before I begin, one that contains spoilers to the Tomb of Sargeras raid. You have been warned.

Illidan. Illidan Illidan Illidan. Out of all the things you could have done, you just have to open a portal to Argus in the sky! I didn't know how we were going to get to Argus when I started this fic, but this certainly wasn't it! This has royally messed up so many of my plans for this story it's not even funny! My plans for Albion are going to have to be radically changed, I'm going to have to figure out how each of the nations, including the Horde and Alliance, who, like everyone else, aren't going to be happy about this. I mean, who would!

So, yeah, as cool as that was, it is forcing me to do a whole lot of plot reworking. Well, at least that leaves me to implement my Albion plan b.

Now onto the reviews.

Bicorn: Always expect cliffhangers.

Akshka: Telling you of the church's plans about the Horde and Alliance certainly fall under spoiler territory. You will simply have to wait.

Saurian: Azeroth has a vague idea of how powerful Sargeras is. They know he is stronger than the entire Legion alone, which means they know he can destroy worlds, but they don't know that he can do so casually. Sadly, Illidan's body is still at the Nighthold, and even if it wasn't, it's unlikely that anyone beyond the Illidari would believe that claim.

Now on with the show!

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Julio's eyes widened in mute horror. The Legion was here! How? Several airships had been set up around the capital as an early warning system. How had they slipped past their outer defenses? Things had fallen apart in less than an instant, many mages thrown into a panic. Both the mage and the massive infernals target, the warlock, were the first to spring into action.

He hadn't seen much of Azerothian magic before, outside of a few shaman's and portal spells. Casters didn't need implements to use magic, another thing that separated the two groups of mages. Violet explosions slam into the infernal's arm, knocking it off course, the darkened stone fist smashing into the ground. Meanwhile the warlock did not sit ideal while her life was under threat. Fel magic twisted around her, the pale green bolt striking at her target. The golem like construct froze in place, becoming translucent.

"That'll hold it for a bit!" Julio barely heard her voice over the panic, as the doors swung open. Soldiers from all factions came rushing into the door, so of them carrying equipment for their own leaders. Swords, axes, staffs, and artifacts of power were all passed to their respectful owners. The Warchief was already in his element, bellowing out orders.

"We need an outer perimeter established now! Get word to our garrison forces, see if we can get some fliers airborne! And tell them to take in as many civilians as they can!" the orc shouted over the noise. Order appeared to be on the verge of returning, until the infernal started moving again. But Velen hadn't been idle during that time, either, as a sphere of light began to expand outward from his body. It grew at a rapid pace, consuming the entire chapel in a warm glow. He felt warm, and strangely, happy. But that didn't stop him from noticing the effect it had on the demon. The very moment it's body came into contact with the light, it began to crumble, as if it was made of nothing more than ash. He swore Anduin had given a nod to a wolf like human that had entered the room, before the boy added his strength to Velen's own, causing the field to grow even more. Swiftly, both High Preists, staffs in hand, strengthened their defenses even more, the dome of light covering the church and a larger portion of the grounds.

A group of felbat's caught his eye through the window, only for their bodies to suffer the same fate as the infernal as they made contact. So this was Azeroth's holy magic? This was far beyond anything he or his master could have anticipated. One of the wind spells near Velen appeared to be active, allowing all to hear what he had said.

"The Legion has hatred for the Light, but in truth it despises all faiths for their power to bring hope, the most dangerous weapon of us mortal races. Make no mistake, it wasn't because of the number of leaders present that made this place a target. It was because that this temple stands for something that others can look up to. To inspire unity in the face of disaster. The power to inspire those who would not stand to take up arms. This is reason the Legion strikes here, and now. They strike out of fear, of those inspired and willing to do everything in their power to drive them out. Let us show them this day, that their fears are more than justified," Velen's words rang out for all to hear. To Julio's own surprise the panic came to a halt. It was as if his words had flipped a switch. Many of these Priests had never seen conflict before, and had never been trained for such. But somehow, Velen's words had stuck them in a way he couldn't have anticipated.

Yes, they may have had a shield between them and the enemy. One that could not be breached easily, but slowly, more and more began releasing their magic against the swarm of bats trying to break through. Fire, ice, water, earth, and wind lashed about against the attackers. The number of the enemies made aiming irrelevant, as several bodies impacted the ground with a splat. However, the demon swarm seemed to hold back, allowing for them to be swiftly picked off. Still, the number made what causalities they did manage to inflect completely irrelevant.

Julio began to make his way down the balcony. He already sensed that his master had a plan for him. One that likely made use of his talents as Vindalfr. It didn't take long for him to hear the orc's voice again.

"Are there any plans for civilian evacuation in case this city came under surprise attack?" the Warchief asked. Maltuk's body was tense, as if ready to jump into the fray. More than a few of the Order leaders had already done so. In fact, he could faintly hear shouting from one of the Battlelords outside.

"No, but many of them will come here or other chapels within the city," the pope spoke next, causing the warchief to grimace. It didn't take long for Julio to figure out why. Despite the field keeping the Legion at bay, they were still surrounded. Anyone who fled would be cut down trying to reach safety. And they couldn't push outside of the bubble safely. Effectively, they were pinned down. The sight of an explosion drew Julio's eye, before they widened in shock. One of the airships had engaged a Legion vessel, before it was completely destroyed. He hadn't even seen what happened, simply that in an instant, it was turned into a flaming wreck falling into the city.

That must have been why they used personal fliers, much rather than larger craft. So far, it was good that they hadn't opened fire on the city itself, or turned their guns to their defenses. Or maybe they were simply just trying to strike as much fear into the populous as possible. Julio didn't know. From what he had heard, it could have been a mixture of overconfidence, striking fear, and simple numerical superiority.

"Julio, I want you to join the Dragon Knights in repealing the attack. See to it that our airships know to not get too close," Vittorio spoke. Julio nodded, as his rune, Vindalfr, ignited beneath his glove. The rune was one of the four runes given too Brimir's familiars, allowing for one control the minds of beasts, most natural and magical. For now, he wasn't going test his limits and attempt to control one of the fel bats circling above. Rather, he reached into the mind of a nearby dragon. Azzurro, a pure white dragon had been given to him as a gift.

He swiftly mounted up, much to the dragon's glee. Azzurro didn't like spending too much time on the ground, which often resulted him being overjoyed when allowed to fly. Normally, Julio would be concerned about bringing the dragon into battle in such a state, but his exactly may prove to be advantageous.

It wasn't until he was in the air that Julio noticed how bad the situation had become. The Legion had three ships ringing the city, with several airships destroyed, and the rest of the fleet retreating to a safer distance. Romanian dragon and griffin knights, alongside Horde and Alliance forces, had already engaged the swarms of fel bats above the city. The creatures certainly lacked intelligence, but their numbers more than made up for it. A troll found out the hard way as he screwed an enemy, only to be ripped off his own mount, being sent plummeting to his death.

Most were thankfully smart enough to keep their distance, using anything from spears to firearms against their airborne enemies. Julio wasn't exactly sure how arrows or spears could hit anything when mounted, but it was working. Practice may have been key to that one. Meanwhile the spells from griffin and dragon knights were keeping the bats from grouping up into larger swarms. Dragons themselves launched gouts of flame at incoming targets, discouraging attacks from the front while their riders covered their flanks. If there was anything that shown through, it was the combination of Alliance griffin riders and Romania's griffin knights. Smaller and swifter than dragons, yet larger than the manticore like mounts used by the Horde gave them plenty of versatility. They helped cover the dragon's flanks and underside, while their strength have them the power to create holes in the enemy lines for the manticores and their riders to take advantage of.

The brutal combination of attacks was slowly clearing out the sky, but did little to solve the actual problem they faced. All three Legion ships still remained, completely unopposed. As far as Julio knew, that just meant they could pump more and more troops into the city. No matter how many casualties they inflicted on the Legion's attacking forces, if the ships remained, it would be irrelevant. They need to be removed from the playing field. Didn't Marlexana mention that the most effective way to bring down a Legion vessel was to destroy it from the inside out?

Great, that was the last thing he wanted. A internal assault would draw attention, and each success would make bringing down the next even harder. However, it didn't seem like they had any other options at that point. None of their airships could get close without being torn from the sky, and even if they could, it was doubtful cannons would be effective. Besides, hadn't a Knights of the Ebon Blade have so air support in the area …

BOOM! Multiple explosions rocked one of the Legion vessels, causing the it's dark body to list in the sky, before the ship flickered, as green rings formed around it, before the ship vanished in a blink. That was convenient, if little else. That left two more then. Maybe they had a chance of victory after all.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Vittorio had seen many things over his so far short life, but he had never seen anything quite like this. Alliance, Horde, Romanian. It didn't matter were any soldier, healer, or mage came from. Each had accepted that this was a fight for their lives, and there was only one way they were getting out in one piece. The felguards that pressed the attack on their frontline was beginning to wear down, even with the bats that continued to bare down on them. He, for one, had considered even moving beyond the bubble the so called prophet had produced a foolish choice. However, the Warchief was charismatic, despite his outward appearance. It took no time for the Horde to go on the offensive, with more than a few order and faction leaders following in rapid suit.

Combined with the strange wolf man by the name of Crowley in charge of the Alliance's own military force being unwilling the let the Warchief charge off on his own, Vittorio knew he had been forced into a potentially bad situation. So, he ultimately allowed his own soldiers to join in as well, holy knights and mages reinforcing the battle line. Still, if nothing else, it allowed him to observe Horde and Alliance forces first hand.

What he was observing was alarming. He expected both to be strong, capable nations, but it was becoming clear he had underestimated just how much. Both factions were known, even here, for their habit of being at the other's throat. But it seemed like that constant fighting not only made them prepared for conflicts outside of their factions, it made them prepared to fight side by side. He found such a mindset odd. It was just didn't seem natural. Both sides had a hate for each other, so working together like this should be impossible. Yet, they were capable doing just that.

This merely confirmed what he had first thought. An attempt to pit the Horde or Alliance simply would fail. The Legion already made tried that, and they wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. While the presence of the two factions was certainly unexpected, Vittorio wasn't as opposed to them as many of his predecessors would have. They were most certainly dangerous, and a threat. But at the same time, they had the potential to become a powerful ally in his future plans. Naturally, he would have a much harder time manipulating both, provided that Azeroth's appearance had any effect on the windstones.

Regardless, the Legion had proven itself to be a much larger problem. Both factions had plenty of experience in fighting them, which made them a decent shield. Of course, he would have to send a token force to keep up appearances. Even knowing their intentions, he found the Legion interesting as well. Whatever they used for transport would certainly be useful, if they could appear in an instant. Prephase they could find a way to make use of it themselves. They could explore the wreckage after the battle was won.

That plan was shattered as a shock wave rocked the area, with one of the ships flickering out of reality. Vittorio frowned. So, they did have countermeasures in place to keep their technology out of the hands of their enemies. Personally, he would have done the same rather to allow secrets to fall into enemy hands. Despite many of their number clearly lacking in intelligence, it merely confirmed what the warlock had said. There was something much smarter behind them. Likely, one of them was even leading the attack, likely from one of the ships.

Any thoughts exited his mind as a green lightning crashed into the ground, sending stone and dust skyward. It was massive, easily three times the size of the Felguards currently locked in battle. Slowly, the horde before them began to step back, allowing what had to have been a leader to move. Vittorio frowned. He made note to find someone willing to explain what Azeroth knew about the Legion completely. Hopefully, such action would help minimize any further surprises.

The demon before them let out a screaming bellow, raising his axe over his head, sending it downwards in a falling arc. One of the paladin's caught the blow with their shield, releasing a powerful shockwave, knocking over soldiers and ripping up stone and earth. Vittorio wasn't even caught in the attack, but the winds it kicked up nearly knocked him off his feet. However, the paladin held his ground, despite the blow being more than enough to cleave most shields in half. Truthguard, however, was no simple shield. It was one of Azeroth's most powerful artifacts.

Azeroth's champions did not stand ideal, either. In an instant, all of them had focused their attention on the larger demon. Arrows and spells were slung through the air, while those carrying melee weapons quickly entered the fray. One of the battlelords, one using a shield, immediately relieved his comrade, somehow battering the massive weapon to the side. The other paladin, one of the Tauren, alongside a shaman and a druid, were not focusing on attacking the target. They were healing. So, they had indeed figured out a way to rapidly mend wounds during active combat? If anything, this increased their value to Vittorio. Yes, water mages could do the same, but it was something only the best of the best could do, and their skill made it so they weren't worth risking. Meanwhile, Azeroth clearly had learned that art, and had learned it well. Such talent could go a long way in reducing combat fatalities, especially with paladins, who also wore heavy armor for protection.

Almost immediately, the demonic forces attempted a counterattack, surging forward in an attempt to slay those engaging their commander, only to be meet by another charge. Steel meet demonic strength in a shower of sparks and straining muscle. Horde, Alliance, and Romanian forces all moved forward as one. Legion forces fell like wheat before a scythe to both blade and spell. It was nothing, however, to the skill displayed by the order leaders and the Warchief himself.

They were whittling it down, little by little. Each strike didn't have much impact, but as a group, it's size and endurance meant nothing. The paladin and warrior had managed to turn the lieutenant away from their own forces. This time, the shockwave wasn't aimed at their defenses, but rather, their attackers. It didn't even hesitate to crush it's allies like bugs, mercilessly and without a hint of remorse. Based on it's roars, the demon might have been blaming it's allies for the mistake, rather than simply turning around. If this was an example of Legion leadership, Vittorio was less than impressed.

"Look out!" Vittorio felt his body violently showed to the side, as the earth that was beneath his feet broke apart. The rising spire knocked his savor into the air, though he wasn't able to tell who. A caster, without a doubt, if the shadowy armor surrounding them was any indicator. Impact with the ground forced the air out of the figure's lungs. As the magical suit of armor fell away, who had saved him had became visible. The blood elf warlock, Mar, if he remembered correctly. She was alive, but the fall had likely did some damage. He, however, most certainly would have died from the sharpened spire alone. The downward trip likely would have done little more than turn his corpse into an unrecognizable mess.

One of the healers had already noticed the event, and was already focusing all their attention on the elf, closing wounds and mending bones. There wasn't exactly much he could do in the current situation, even though he wanted too. Vittorio was a void mage, one of the few who held the power of the Founder, Brimir. He had a much harder time casting spells of the other four elements, and that was a secret known to only to himself and his familiar. Even if he was willing to play his hand, none of the void spells he had mastered were offensive in nature, and without the Founder's Prayerbook, he would have a hard time mastering new ones.

After crushing a green stone in her hands, the warlock finally returned to her feet. Vittorio wasn't an expert on elvish facial expressions, but it was clear she wasn't happy. Chaotic energy bellowed in her hands, being lobbed at her target with immense force. At her command, demon's leaked forth into reality, each one bond to her will. He didn't notice earlier on at first glance, the small creatures being swiftly lost in the throngs of combat. But now, in her anger, it wasn't a small handful. It was a swarm, jaws, claws and spells all seeking their target with brutal efficiency. Like before, it wasn't harmful on it's own, more like a swarm of bees than anything else.

But it wasn't power that was making the difference. Rather, it was the volume. More than a dozen demons, each one on it's own tiny and insignificant but as a part of a whole, far more deadly. At least, that's what Vittorio thought the goal was. He never expected each demon to drop dead, life force being pulled toward a floating skull that had been circling the warlock. Thal'kiel, he believed it's name was. Or, what it prefered to be called. It opened it's skeletal jaw, as a violet beam of energy shot from it, impacting the larger demon's shoulder. The vitality of more than a dozen demons made for a frightening thing, causing the creature to stumble, a large burn seared into it's flesh.

With the attack knocking the demon off balance, the advantage was swiftly pressed. Blades bit into tendons hold the demon up, causing it's body to begin falling backwards. Due to it's size, it likely would have died upon impact with the street below. But the Warchief wouldn't allow that. His powerful muscles kicked off the ground, landing on the demon's knee, followed by the snapping of bone. Then, he leapt forward again, crashing down on the demon's throat, burying both sword and axe into it's flesh. Stone and earth erupted forth from the impact, with the Warchief standing over it's corpses.

"Lok'tar Ogar!" he shouted to the heavens, raising his blood stained axe to the sky. Vittorio didn't know the meaning of the combination of words, but it was clearly important. Several other Horde soldiers took up the phrase as well, cheering. If only for a moment, the Warchief was willing to let them celebrate their victory.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Julio was barely able to roll out of the way as an axe threatened to split him in half. After a brief discussion, it was decided that while the Horde and Alliance would storm one of the remaining Legion vessels, while Romanian forces attack the other. They had already suffered casualties, because a few of the mages underestimated how tough the demon's were. Many of the casters had layers of defensive spellwork, forcing them to work together to break the spells, while the fel guards were simply tough.

It didn't help that the warlock failed to go over exactly the demon they were facing, but they appeared to be red skinned Draenei. Regardless, they were a threat that was intent on stopping their destruction of the ship, meaning they had to be removed. Dozens of bodies littered the floor in the main room, and they were still forcing their way into the engine room. None of the explosives had been rigged yet. They were saving that once they managed to breach the defense the Legion was putting up.

A bolt of lightning blasted a hole in the side of the fel guard's skull, causing its body to fall over, limp. Julio peaked around the corner, looking around the room carefully. For the most vulnerable place in the ship, one would think it would be better guarded. Or, more accurately, that it would be guarded at all. It was possible that they had expended their defense's in an attempt to stop their advance. Personally, Julio had his doubts. It made no strategic sense. Or was it simple overconfidence that the Legion made such errors.

"Begin planting the explosives, now!" Julio ordered, as a few mages moved into the empty room. He wasn't surprised by their displeasure about using weapons they had deemed only worthy of plebeians, but this was the safest possible method. Relying on magic to destroy the anchor simply would have killed them all. Good for a last ditch effort. Not good for surviving.

Still, Julio felt like this was simply too easy. The moment that thought crossed his mind, he heard an explosion from above. Footfalls echoed throughout the ship's corridors. Something was coming, and it wasn't humanoid. Each step was too close to the one before, and from the noise it was creating, it had to be quite large. Much larger than even the mightiest of the fel bats that were in the sky. Regardless of what it was, there was no way it was even remotely friendly.

"Foolish mortals! My ship will be your tomb!" a booming voice echoed into the room, causing Julio flinch from the shear volume. If that wasn't a sign that they needed to leave, then he didn't know what was.

"Are the charges set?" he asked quietly, getting nods from mages. Each of the explosives was in place, primed and ready. Escape was the only option they really had. To fight was to simply go down with the ship, and that was if the thing barring their path didn't slay them first.

"Make for the dragons. Don't get held down in a fighting whatever that is unless you can help it," Julio ordered, getting a swift nod of agreement. They slowly made their way to the main room through the hallway they had only recently pushed their way through, still littered with the dead. But that did little to prepare them for what they saw. Julio was familiar with Azeroth's centaurs, a race with the lower half of a horse, and the upper half of a man. There was a similarity between that race and what was before him. Four legs touched the ground, with the upper half of it's body holding a massive spear in it's human like grip. But that was where the similarities ended. Green scales covered it's entire body, with twin tusks protruding out of skin above it's maw. Fel fire crowned the top of it's head, running the spine to the tip of it's tail, nestled between a row of spikes. Large, bat like wings sprouted from it's back, with no clear purpose.

It was a miracle it could fit into the room so easily. Julio could tell he only just came up to one of it's legs in height. But the scene before him made himself sick. While the death of the group them left to cover their rear flank was already a forgone conclusion, nobody could have expected something that gruesome. Blood painted the walls crimson, limbs hewn from bodies in ways the only a depraved mind could imagine. Almost as if their slaughter was little more than amusing to the demon.

That moment's hesitation nearly cost him his life.

"There you are, little rat," the rumbling chuckle echoed in his mind, causing him to freeze up in fear. Just what type of monstrosity was this? It was only when the spear in it's hand was drawn back, even with a body still impaled on the tip, did he react. Julio lept forward in panic, any and all coordination leaving his mind as instinct took over. Fel flame missed him by mere centimeters, the heat from the fire still more than enough to burn his clothing and skin to blister, while the mage hit directly by the attack was incinerated.

In an instant, the group exiting from the opposite side began to lay down cover, as fire and lightning streaked toward the demon, only for each to have no visible effect. Rather than bother with another blast, it simply charged at them, laughing as they tried to flee. A simple swing of it's weapon cleaved both mages in half. But the time spend slaying the two had bought Julio and the sole surviving mage enough time to get to their mounts. The demon let out a bellow of rage as it attempted to pursue, only for the ship to deny its movement.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Focus on rescuing the survivors! Be quick about it! We have no idea when the Legion will return!" the Warchief shouted. Vittorio had to admit to himself, if the Warchief was good at anything, he was a master of winning over the commoners. With the lieutenant now dead, and the attack force scattered, they could focus on other, more important things. And that appeared to be rescuing those they could find, bringing them to safety while preparing for the next wave. Those who were severely injured were taken away from the frontlines to safety, while reinforcements were already being brought in.

Thankfully, many had found safe places to hide during the heat of the fighting, and were now emerging on their own. Still, the damage to area was catastrophic. Most buildings had been outright flattened, simply pounded into rubble, if that. Rebuilding would be costly, and take a great deal of effort, but the factions would be able to give much support, seeing as part of the negotiation plans were over resources they both needed for their own war efforts. Repairs to the city gave them less of Romania's own to trade. However, it was a cut they would just simply have to make due. Faction leadership wasn't irrational.

Still, most garrison forces throughout the city were hit hard, with a few being wiped out completely. Horde and Alliance embassies had also sent word that they had been attacked, but were able to survive due to reinforcements. Both had opened their doors to fleeing civilians, likely saving hundreds of lives. Regardless of whether this was done for the sake of image or too simply save lives, Vittorio was grateful for such actions. Even if their motives were less than altruistic, the end result was the same. In fact, most of the civilian populace, despite their curiosity, were perfectly willing to keep both factions at arms length.

Their actions today, regardless of motive would likely boost support, and even better, many of the priests even opposed to the meeting would be silenced even further. Regardless, Vittorio would win a large political victory. Even the Legion's attack would serve its own political purpose in time.

As one of the last two ships exploded in an orb of flame, another fel green beam came crashing into the earth. Crimson skin, devilish horns sitting atop its skull, bat like wings spread wide. Only it's arms and legs had armor, leaving a large loincloth to cover the unmentionables, topped with a glowing green gem. It seemed shocked, for an instant, as if it hadn't expected to arrive where it had.

One of the death knights let out a savage cry, leaping at his target with a two handed axe, only for the orc to be knocked aside like a doll into a one of the few buildings left standing. If the sound of it's arrival didn't get anyone's attention, the armored knights roars of anger and pain certainly did. Once again, it was the shield bearing warrior and paladin that engaged first. Vittorio had begun to understand the tactics employed by Azeroth's champions.

Their system was a simple one, and while it could work against larger groups of enemies, it excelled at bringing down immensely powerful foes. Unity seemed to be their greatest strength, seeing as none had the power to defeat their opponent on their own. Vittorio had to admit, if it wasn't for the fact he saw it in action, he would have doubts behind it's effectiveness. Three roles in total, with tanks, a style focused around defense, self healing, and holding the attention of their opponent, preventing their allies from being harmed. They attempted to control much in the same manner that a farmer would control a herd of cattle. Healers kept the group alive, most notably the tanks, who took most of the beating. Last were the damage dealers, whose job could be described simply as 'kill things before they kill you'.

This fight seemed to lack the large scale destruction of the first. If this demon had arrived before the other, then all the house's would remain intact. Though that wasn't the only difference between the clashes. Despite its considerable bulk, this demon only made use of it's claws, and clearly wasn't as physically strong as the one before. Strangely enough, it seemed to use spells. Or, at least, was trying to use spells. The only thing he saw getting through whatever it was they were doing was the occasional bolt of violet energy, impacting whichever tank had its attention at any given moment. Compared to the blast output by the Netherlord earlier, the attack was outright pitiful.

Slaughtering more than a dozen demons to even cast the spell may have played a role. Still, a demon of that size should have more magic than the just a simple burst of shadow. Of course, the moment the thought made it's way through his mind, he wished he hadn't made such a hasty judgement. Any who were engaging the demon at close range scattered as flames began to erupt from the demon's body. None of the casters or healers were safe, either, as rifts of sickly green fire formed above their heads, raining orbs of fire upon them. Some jumped free of the blast zone before even the first of the flaming rain made contact with the ground. For the rest, what defensive spells they could muster until they could exit under their own power was enough.

However, the pulsing flames the demon released, while driving even the tanks away, also inflicted damage on it's body. While the searing blaze prevented it from being touched, it was burning away at the demon. Only two options seemed to remain for it. Death induced by self immolation, or let the spell down and have its weakened form torn apart. Neither option seemed particularly appealing. Eventually, the pain became too much, and the spell shattered, fire dissipating. Sizzling flesh, savage gashes, and arrows poking out of it's skin, the demon was nearly on it's last leg. The renewed fight was swift and harsh, as the demon collapsed under the weight of its wounds.

This time, however, the Warchief did not seem so pleased with the turn of events.

"Once is circumstance, but twice? The Legion never abandoned their ships before now," he spoke, voice betraying his annoyance.

"The Doomguard looked disoriented when it arrived. Perhaps something has interfered with the explosions, or their escape method has been unknowingly altered," it was the draenei paladin that spoke, though he seemed much calmer. "If that is all, we merely must prepare ourselves for the destruction of the final ship." Vittorio frowned slightly. He didn't know what happened to Julio once he had taken to skies, and he knew better than to push the connection with his familiar when it wasn't wanted. However, after three years of being his familiar, Vittorio learned how read Julio's emotional state. Which was concerning, seeing as the only emotions he was getting were fear and panic. What exactly was going on up there to warrant that type of reaction?

As the final vessel exploded in a ball of fire, Vittorio learned the answer to that question. Claws dug into what little stone remained, cracking them under it's bulk. Fire ran for it's skull, all the way to the tip of it's tail. Four massive green legs carried the bat winged monstrosity, as it's booming laughter echoed through the ruined streets. Fire flashed within it's maw, glinting off it's tusks like a mirror.

"Pit Lord!" a voice shouted, though in the ensuing chaos, Vittorio wasn't sure where it came from. What forces remained in the from the Doomguard were already retreating, clearing everyone they could find from the area. After a single attack, he could see why. The Pit Lord reared back, releasing a stream of pure fel fire, crashing into one of the tanks, sending the armored body streaking backwards, while the other quickly closed the distance. Meanwhile, those who could began their own assaults.

Thanks to the portals, a few more had arrived on the scene, as all manor of spells impacted into it's hide. To the demon, it didn't seem to matter. Still, it laughed, enjoying itself in a sick, twisted fashion. Like the ones before it, collateral was of no concern. Less than that, in reality. Many of the flaming boulders it pulled from the sky were just simply put at random places, not even remotely close to it's attackers.

"Burn mortals! Burn!" the demon bellowed, continuing it's onslaught of powerful spells and melee blows. Each strike broke the earth beneath their feet, forcing them to take turns parrying for the other. Vittorio could already tell that under normal circumstances, bring the beast down would cost many lives. This fact merely increased his desire to have the factions at his back. With their aid, humanity could be easily saved.

That plan still needed to be worked out, and it was possible that the two factions may just seek alternative methods. Controlling them would be significantly more difficult than any of the other nations on the continent. Especially the Warchief. What many would assume was an intelligent brute was far smarter, cunning, and more charismatic than even Vittorio had given himself credit for. It was clear why the orc held the position. He lead from the front lines, inspiring those under his command. Many would consider it impractical, or even foolish, but for a skilled warrior, it would have it's benefits.

After all, many rulers, Vittorio included, wouldn't been close to a Pit Lord, let alone using two swords to rip out chunks of it's hide. Same as before, the demon was weakening little by little. Fireball's impacted it's skin, enchanted blade tore at it's flesh, arrow's and jagged shards of ice pierced it's body. But that didn't mean it was going down easily. The demon was more than capable of inflicting damage on it's attackers. Each meteor could easily squish anything caught directly beneath it, while the long spear in it's hand, combined with the energy blasts it could discharge, were slowly battering both tanks into the ground. Simply put, it was a war of attrition. One against many. Even the strongest of foes could be brought down by shear numbers. A harsh truth that Vittorio knew many nobles had forgotten. But it was a truth that Azeroth was far more experienced in.

It happened in the same time one could blink. As a beam went out, a shade seemed to be purched on the demon's neck. Next, the demon was clutching it's own throat. Somehow, someway, somebody managed to climb onto it's back, and plunge a sword straight through it's spine. Then Vittorio learned something new about the Pit Lords. Not only were they dangerous, monstrous, and savage fighters, if somebody had to skill or luck necessary to kill one, they exploded. Thankfully, that seemed to be a bit of common knowledge, seeing as everyone managed to escape without being harmed.

Vittorio looked out at the city before him. Most of the building's outside the chapel's walls were damaged, if not outright destroyed. Flames flickered in the distance, whether they were fel or regular fires was impossible to tell. Griffions, dragons, and wyverns wheeled overhead, finishing what remained of bats that were polluting the sky. The sickly green glow in the heavens had faded, allowing the light of the sun to pierce through the clouds. This was victory, but clearly, it had come at a cost.

The talks would have to be put on hold. Rebuilding would have to take priority. New houses to build, families to shelter, and soldiers to bury. But, something told him that Romania wasn't going to have to recover from this disaster on it's own.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Instance: Battle for Romania

Type: 5-man heroic plus dungeon.

Description: After the discovery of the Halkeginia content, Alliance and Horde leaders, alongside leaders of the Order Halls, arrive in the holy capital of nation Romania to begin talks of opening trade between both land masses. Proceedings go as planned until the arrival of Legion forces, attacking the talks in an attempt to slay as many high ranking faction leaders as possible. You must join forces with the strongest members all the Order Halls and protect both the Pope and the city itself from falling into Legion hands.

The group must fill the bar by killing 20 demonic attackers for the first boss to spawn.

Lieutenant Luz'Tul

Description: Lieutenant Luz'Tul was among the lowest ranking officer sent to attack Romania's capital city. Not the brightest of his kind, this massive fel guard release on brute strength to pound his opponents into submission, caring little for the damage he caused, even to his own allies.

Abilities

Crushing Slam: Lieutenant Luz'Tul will cast this ability on cooldown. After a five second cast, this ability will hit whoever has aggro for massive damage, placing a two minute debuff on the primary target that increases the damage they take from Crushing Slam by 10%. This also causes a shockwave that will do moderate damage to all players caught in a cone facing behind the original target.

Fel Spire: On cooldown, Lieutenant Luz'Tul will choose a random ranged player (if none are available, a melee player will be chosen). Four seconds later, a spire will erupt beneath their feet, doing massive damage while knocking them airborne.

To summon the second boss, one must fill the bar by killing demons, healing the wounded, and escorting civilians to safety.

Doomguard Drathol

Description: Drathol went on this mission for a singular reason, to be only "statagest" part of the attack. As such, he was the one who ordered the city by captured in a display of force to the Legion's power, much rather than burned to the ground. However, he was unprepared for the tenacity of the defenders, which ultimately lead to his ship's destruction, where he is forced to do battle on the ground.

Abilities

Shadow Bolt: On cooldown, Drathol casts an uninterruptible shadow bolt onto his aggro target, placing a thirty second debuff on the target increasing their shadow damage by 15%

Razor Claws: On cooldown, Drathol will enter an uninterruptible channel, where he lashes out in front of him, placing a stacking debuff on all targets, stacking to five times, doing moderate residual bleed damage.

Shadow Bolt Volley: On cooldown, Drathol will enter a length cast. Once complete he will hit all targets within forty yards for moderate shadow damage.

Hellfire: Once at 20% health, Drathol will enter an uninterruptible channel, doing stacking fire damage to all targets within twenty yards. Meanwhile, all area between thirty and forty yards, starting at the locations of all players inside that range, will slowly be covered by raining fire, also doing stacking fire damage. When Drathol reaches 10% health (losing one health per second), the channel will end.

Pit Lord Goldrath

Description: Brutish and violent, even by the standards of his kind, has lead many assaults that have left nothing but bodies in his wake. Now, ordered by his masters to assault the holy city, he does so gleefully, ready to leave a crater where only the dead walk.

Ablities

Fel Blast: On cooldown, Goldrath unleashes a powerful blast on his aggro target, knocking them back twenty yards and doing large amounts of chaos and fire damage.

Spear Crush: On cooldown, Goldrath hits his aggro target with a large pysical attack, leaving a stacking bleed on the target.

Meteor Strike: On cast, Goldrath choices ten random locations beyond ten yards, calling down meteor's that instantly kill any who are hit.

Final Detonation: Upon reaching zero health, Goldrath will enter a five second uninterruptible cast, killing all those who remain inside it's ten yard radius.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I would personally like to apologize for the lateness of this update. I intended to have this chater out on Thursday, but seeing that it was only at 4.8 thousand words at that point, and wasn't anywhere close to finished.

I hope you didn't mind my rant, and I hope to see you all again for the next update!


	7. First Step

Review answering time!

Saurin: Thank you! I still feel like I could have done better in that department, but I digress. Vittorio, well, political manipulation is kind of his thing, and he is really good at it. Whether it works with the Horde and Alliance remains to be seen.

Mdhunter: Thank you! You too!

ShadeDurza: Yeah, but at the same time, Louise kind of summoned a planet. She is going through willpower exhaustion and after summoning something of planet size caliber, it's lucky it didn't end up killing her. However, that battle signals the end of the Romalia arc for the most part.

Now, on with the show!

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Rebuilding as not an easy process. Stone had to be mined, timber had to be cut, and even without that, there was a counter attack to plan. Many Horde and Alliance soldiers added in the process, helping repair the damage the Legion had inflicted. A handful of order members gave aid as well, including, strangely, the Council of the Black Harvest. Vittorio was worried about their connection to the Legion would cause panic, but it seemed that many enjoyed watching their attackers brought to heel and put to work.

The Legion assault on the Holy Capital had already begun to stir up anti-Legion thoughts across the populous, just as Vittorio had predicted. Calls for crusade had been sounded, though he had rejected them for some of the same reason he had with the Alliance and Horde. Halkeginia had it's own problems. A call for a crusade would go unanswered.

Many of his general's believed they would be able to drive the demonic assault on Azeroth back without help from the other nations. Vittorio was far less convinced, however, both factions seemed enthusiastic about the incoming aid.

Still the cost had proven to be quite high. Civilian casualties were quite low, a fact that surprised many, but their military was not so fortunate. Given their numbers, Horde and Alliance casulities were quite light, but the events of the Broken Shore had made any lose in numbers sting more than it normally would. Romilia was not so lucky. Three ships full of Dragon Knights and sailor's were lost, alongside hundreds of ground soldiers and mages, including elite personal guards. Order losses remained unknown, but it was clear they were there.

Overall, it was a successful defense, but a fairly brutal one. Vittorio could only imagine how bad it could have been, if those ships turned their guns against the defenders. It would have been a slaughter. Still, it didn't just mean he would let his generals plan an attack without him being in the room. Even if Vittorio knew he wasn't as much of an expert as he wanted to be.

"Outside of Suramar and the Broken Shore, the largest Legion bases of operation left are located in Stromheim and Azsuna," one of the Worgen spoke. Darius Crowly, Vittorio believed was the wolf man's name. A high ranking Alliance general, from what he knew, and from what saw, an outright savage and monstrous combatant. It was clear Anduin, despite his presence, gave the half man confidence, and, most surprisingly voice. The young boy king may not have been a warrior, but he was perfectly fine with delegating and observation. A few other high ranking members of the Alliance military stood near the projector, as two bright green zones were added to a map of the Broken Isle.

"Yes. We've been besieging the last holdout of the followers of 'God King' Skovald for quite some time. However, it's position makes it difficult to assault, and their enslaved Storm Dragons have been causing as a great deal of trouble," a voice rasped from near the Warchief. Nathanos the Blightcaller, current leader of the Forsaken and a general put in charge of the assault on Stormheim spoke. Vittorio admitted, the former man looked far more lively than many of his peers, seeming to lack any rotting flesh or visible bone. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his skin was sickly pale, but beyond that, he looked quite human.

"What do you mean, it's position?" Vandral, one of Vittorio's generals asked. The projection switched to a bird's eye few of the compound. Revealing a massive fortification. Wood and stone made up it's wall, lined with massive cannons that appeared to shoot spears, much rather than cannonballs. No more than a hundred or so feet away from the wall itself, the land fell away to the north and the east, into massive canyons. To the south, a mountainous range rose up, completely preventing any attack from that angle. The west seemed like the only good option, but that was where most of defenses laid. Two massive watchtowers, and a solid iron gate, and that was just the layout of the place. Nathanos was correct, it did look like a difficult location to assault.

"What you do not see is the hundreds of fel infused Vrykul and dozens of enslaved Storm Dragons under their command. Our siege weapons are doing damage, but the dragons are by far one of the larger problems, second to the heavy storms that blanket the region," the Warchief was clearly up to date on the situation. Vittorio had expected him to be. Yes, he could see why the storms would be problematic, which was why Alliance and Horde gunships tended to stay along the coastline.

What was truly concerning was the idea of Azeroth's dragons being just as smart, if not smarter, than their humanoid counterparts. Halkeginia's own were nothing more than beasts, which left a strange mindset in place. Of course, seeing as what passed off as a typical full sized dragon on Halkeginia was little more than a standard drake. Azeroth's fully grown dragons were massive behemoths capable of shapeshifting and all had powerful magic potential. On top of that, each flight was meant to guard a particular aspect of Azeroth.

The Black Dragonflight, now believed to be extinct, used to guard the earth itself before they went mad. The Red's were the protectors of a life itself, and it was one of their own who ruled over the dragons themselves. Bronze Dragons were meant to be the guardians of time, but in the Warchiefs own words they had done "a terrible job, seeing that time loops have been plaguing Azeroth for years". Blue's guarded magical energies, while green's were to protect an area called the Emerald Dream.

The mention of time loops immediately drew his curiosity, of course. Vittorio asked multiple people about it, but the ones who really had a good answer were either adventures or former adventures, for they were the ones with the most experience when it came to dealing with the phenomenon. He got a few different explanations, but the basic idea was always the same. During critical and important events, time would seem to, record over itself, with lack of a better term, and one the outcome was determined, the record would stop. An instance in time, or just simply an instance was the typical offhand term used for it.

What made this event so strange was that once it had finished, it would create a pocket, so to speak. A pocket that could be entered and left at any moment. What happened inside would not have an effect on the outside world. This allowed adventures to group up with others, forming parties to conquer the challenges within. With death being little more than a temporary inconvenience in these spheres, adventures could relive past events, even if they weren't there in the first place. Maltuk believed that the prior battle would likely become one of these.

It boggled Vittorio's mind just how such a thing was possible. Or why some would even try such an event. Answers ranged from boredom, to better equipment, or simple fun. He wasn't sure what this gear they were referring to, but it was clearly something important. But the most alarming feature was the ability to reset after a given amount of time. Ranging from a simply twenty-four hours to an entire week, these events could be ran time and time again.

If these were common occurrence, and Maltuk's statements made him believe that this was indeed the case, it would go far to explain Azeroth's economy. A rate of exchange needed to be made, and soon. Lists of resources had been compiled and Azeroth had a lot to offer. While there were a few common minerals shared by both, Azeroth had many far more exotic minerals that could be used to make better armor and weapons. Most of these goods, while rare and formerly very expensive, had fallen out of favor, reducing their price.

At first, Vittorio wanted the highest quality armor and weapons, though a look at the cost was enough to change his mind rather swiftly. A hand sized clump cost a fair deal as was, but enough to outfit an army? Even if an exchange rate just so happened to be worked out, the price would bankrupt the entire nation! Other options were available. The Warchief himself brought up Ghost Iron. While of lower quality, it could be enchanted.

But that had a different issue. Ghost Iron was found on the continent of Pandaria, and while many members of the Horde and Alliance were allowed onto the continent, but it was it's own sovereign country. A very peaceful one, at that, and one that really didn't have a central government. The Shado-Pan were the closest organization they had to a standard military, only a small but extremely strong fighting force. Both factions viewed the Pandaren as allies, and it was due to actions on the continent that brought an end to the conflict and the current peace that was nearly broken.

Which was why an exchange rate was desirable. Despite Ghost Iron's waning use, within deposits of ore one could find gems that were, ironically, quite popular. As such, Ghost Iron was still commonly mined for such materials. Of course, once somebody figured out there was a new market to exploit, prices would likely rise. Especially if the Goblins became involved. It hadn't taken long for Vittorio to learn about the Trade Cartels or their business dealings.

Then there was transport. Vittorio was no fool, but this was a large problem. Halkeginia's ports had been moved into mountainous areas in an attempt to decrease the depletion for windstone's. Azeroth didn't make as much use of airships, with the Horde only using them as a backup for their portal network, and the Alliance only making using them in their military. Naval travel hadn't been used on Halkeginia for generations for such massive distances. Both faction's fleets would have to commit to a long journey, risking exposure and likely would need to be under heavy escort. More than a few fleet admirals had stated that what they had thrown together was parts of a defense fleet.

Which left the portal network, which Vittorio was reluctant to use. His lack understanding of how portals worked, combined with him not trusting the leylines they required prevented him from trusting such spells in full. But given the alternatives, it didn't seem like they had much of a choice. Still, the new equipment would earn it's keep. Many of Azeroth's own had promised to teach Romilia smith's how to work the ore, with the most competitive in that regard being the Dwarves and Orcs.

And Vittorio didn't even want to get started on the conflict nearly spawned when Halkeginian and Azerothian enchanters decided to debate which form of enchantment was superior. Naturally, both sides thought the work they could do was superior, and thus, without the means or time to put it to the test, nearly resulted in violence. Most were drunk at the time, which went quite far to explain such actions, but thankfully cooler heads managed to prevail.

"The Legion force in Azsuna?" Aelius questioned. A square class earth mage of so reknown, but still remained under the shadow of one of Tristan's own when it came to power. The image of the fortress faded, replaced by one of small island.

"Legion Camp: Ruin has been pinned down by Illidari forces since the start of the war, and with the Legion's reinforcement cut off, they have made a great deal of progress in defeating the Legion force present," Darius growled out, though it seemed to be more of a verbal tick than any sign of aggression.

"It may do us good if we were informed on your current plans first, much rather than simply picking places at random," Admiral Luca spoke next. Vittorio had to admit, that did make the most sense. Even he wasn't entirely aware of the factions plans, but he did know about Sauramar. It's closeness to the Broken Shore's fortifications made it dangerous for Horde and Alliance naval forces to get close, and even if it wasn't, Ellisande was a different beast altogether. After a joint attack ended with the assault being paused in time, Vittorio would much rather let the factions deal with that.

"The only real area that hasn't been contained is the Broken Shore, and we have plans for a second attack once we have acquired the Eye of Amun'thul," Maltuk said, earning more than a few blank looks from Romilian generals.

"The eye is one of the five magical artifacts we plan to use to heal the breach in reality above the Tomb of Sargeras. However, it is located within the Nighthold, making it one reason in a list of many of why we launched an attack on the location," Marlexana spoke from the back. Vittorio paused, nearly forgetting the Netherlord was even present. She had been quiet throughout the entire meeting. Most of her activities the past few days had been a blur. Traveling to Dalaran on Council business, helping with reconstruction, and being tied down by other meetings, combined with desire to look at books storied in the Romilian Holy Library, which was closed due to damage from the Legion attack.

Bluntly, he wasn't sure where she had found time to sleep. Or even if she had slept at all. Either didn't sounded healthy, even for a elf. Admittedly, a very young elf by the standards of her kind. Though Vittorio was concerned about the look her weapon gave him. It simply sat there, floating. He knew what it was supposed to do, and the fact it still had some degree of free will, but the way it's empty eyes gazed at him. It knew something. Or at the very least, suspected something. That would be, well, problematic, in the long run. But how would that even be possible? She did mention in passing that the artifact was used by the Legion for thousands of years. Regardless, it didn't make sense. He had gone over as much history as he could. A force like the Legion would have to be in mentioned if it ever showed up before, right?

Irrelevant, for the moment. Vittorio knew it would be for the best that somebody keep an eye on her, but at the same time, she was the Horde's Netherlord, and sister of the current Blood Elf Regent Lord to boot. Even if she didn't want to throw her weight around, it didn't change that she had it. And her power wasn't something that could be easily denied, either. Spying on her while she and members of her Council helped with rebuilding would be foolish.

"Correct. The Nighthold contains many valuable assets and enemy pawns. Striking while the Legion's reinforcements are cut only serves to increase that success," Nathanos stated, nodding. Vittorio frowned. They were likely talking about Gul'dan when they meant 'enemy pawns'. Personally, he didn't see a person of Gul'dan's supposed strength a pawn of any sort. If Gul'dan was only a pawn, what did it say about the power of his masters?

"Didn't you say the initial assault failed?" Aelius asked, puzzled.

"It did. Elisande used the power of the Nightwell to freeze time itself around our joint offensive force, and we only just barely managed to undo the effects," Maltuk stated, face showing a hint of bitterness at the thought. "However, the direct assault was always going to be the feint, seeing as tunnel's beneath the Nightwell lead directly into the cities heart." Once again, Maltuk's cleverness was clear. One would argue that such a move was dishonorable. The Warchief would likely argue that pausing time was dishonorable.

"Azeroth's champaigns were always the original plan. The Legion would simply be foolish to let such valuable assets fall to side without getting the most out of them, and sometimes, an army isn't exactly the answer, especially when faced with very loyal fighters," Mar stated. "Besides, last I heard, our forces were about to enter Elisande's sanctum. It's only a matter of time before Gul'dan and whatever remaining resistance falls."

What worried Vittorio was that he actually believed it. Not at first, but the events of the battle merely a few days prior proved how strong Azeroth's defenders were. It made sense, seeing as Azeroth over the past few decades always seemed to have some world ending threat pop every few years, this wasn't surprising. Though constant threats of apocalypse were not something he wanted to get used to.

"The Broken Shore, then. What plans are in place?" Vandral questioned, as a map of the island flickered into being. By no real means massive by any stretch, even with the imposing tomb taking up most of the northern corner. Other legion structure dotted the landscape, alongside the ruins of large destroyed ships, likely faction gunships, while the southern shore was littered with sunken naval vessels.

"We strike from two flanks at once. Our naval fleets launch an attack from the south, while the Order's use Dalaran as a staging ground. They'll strike from above, reinforce the landing parties on the beach. Rather than push straight for the Tomb, our combined forces will move westward, to capture and fortify the strongest defensive position on the island," a point near the south western corner of the island lit up as Crowley spoke. Outside the Tomb, it easily was the highest points on the landmass. It appeared to be an easily defendable position as well. "Afterwards, we will launch an attack force against the Tomb to draw enemy attention away from the side entrance. Once the Legion's attention has been diverted, we will launch a small strike group to escort the Aegis of Aggramar to the top of the Tomb. With the Aegis's enchantment, a large portion of the Legion's potential reinforcements shall be cut."

Which would allow a real attack force to beach the Tomb's defense's without fear of being flanked. Of course, such a move would be risky. Almost too risky. The second attack would likely have to deal with more and better equipped soldiers, and seeing how the Tomb was key to their operations. Even then, they likely would leave the top of the Tomb unguarded if it was that important.

"Provided the Legion doesn't have an more of those craft, we should be able to provide aerial cover," Luca said, earning a nod from the Warchief. Vittorio was less certain. Azeroth only sent three of their massive gunships, with two being destroyed and sole survivor being damaged. Seeing as the report's only mentioned Legion crafts appearing once two had already been destroyed, he knew those weren't the only major threat in the air. And while he hadn't seen the gunship in battle, he knew they had a record, and were used quite effectively. Even when shot down, an event that occurred a bit to often with Horde gunships. A shame, really, seeing as he heard such ships carried a massive array of guns.

However, any and all thoughts were left as a loud knocking came from the door. All in the room paused, eyes gazing over it's wooden frame.

"Enter!" the Warchief finally bellowed, much to the dismay of Vittorio's ears. And seemingly everyone else's, given the fact that many were now rubbing their own. Finally, the door opened, revealing a man in fairly standard messenger garb. Light leather armor, combined with an Alliance tabard.

"Sirs!" the man saluted, looking around the room swiftly. "I bring news from the front! Elisande and her forces have been defeated, and Gul'dan is slain." Vittorio paused. This was certainly cause for celebration. Of course, this was merely the beginning of the end for the faction's grand plan. But the final piece of the puzzle was ready to be put into place. So why was everyone staring at the door? And why did it sound like someone released a horse into the hallway?

"And Illidan Stormrage has returned."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

And that's a wrap. Funny, how Illidan comes into the picture in the chapter after I ranted about him. Still, this marks the end of the Romilia arc and the introduction as a whole. Soon, we will be moving to much more familiar pastures.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you all next time.


	8. Academy of Magic: Part 1

It's review answering time!

Mdhunter: Thank you!

Guest: This is a very, very interesting question. I can't exactly give an answer to what I have planned for future events. However, the first option could go either way. Anduin is much closer in age to Henrietta than the Germinia Emperor is implied to be, and such an arrangement would be quite interesting, giving the Alliance, and by extension, the Horde, to be more closely involved in Tristain's affairs. At the same time, such an action would likely damage the relations between not just Tristain and Germania, but also Germinia and both factions. Plus, Anduin does have a similar appearance to her true love, which might make things awkward in the long run. Not only that, the Alliance military main force is not only much farther than Germinia's, it's larger and more important military assets would need to cross a large ocean to be of use.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I must thank you, Marilyn, for your help," Marlexana bowed slightly at her guildmate, one of the higher ranking members of the Trisgarde. The arcana mage let a sigh of annoyance, flipping back his long, black hair. The massive amounts of arcane energy around him had slowly begun turning is fel green eyes to a more purple hue.

"Oh, don't thank me. I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for the fact that somebody was already being sent to the same place you're headed to," Marilyn glared slightly, unamused by his companions antics. Or that she was going to the Tristain Academy of Magic on business. That alone was enough to make him envious. Seriously, so much new magic to discover, and a Warlock of all people was getting the first look.

Heck, she was told to arrive several days in advance, which meant she would have time to peruse a great many spell books before the meeting between Horde, Alliance, and Tristan's Regent Lord, Princess, and several Noble Houses. Thankfully, she choose a time when somebody else was already making a trip. A priest, no less. He had hoped that standing near the Violet Citadel would help they stick out from the darkness just a bit, but it seemed like his hopes were for nothing.

"Salutations!" A cheery voice sang from below. Marilyn nearly jumped back, as Mar stifled a giggle. Oh course, they just had to send a gnome.

"Kithkiris Fastgear?" he asked, looking down at the small humanoid, offering his hand to shake. With a smile still on her face, the gnome shook his hand, causing him to wince. Despite their small stature, gnomes were quite physically impressive. He wasn't going to get used to the bone crushing handshakes. He should, given the amount of gnomes he worked with.

"Yes! It's a pleasure to meet both of you!" Kithkiris seemed quite happy. That seemed to be a trait with gnomes, practically being fonts of literal optimism.

"Are both of you ready to leave?" Marilyn asked, earning a nod from both. Well, here went something.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Professor Colbert was quite happy that class was in session when the portal finally opened. The newly discovered Azeroth was hot topic among the students, though every little information was known to them. Of course, that news was overshadowed by the attack by another party at the beginning of negotiation between Alliance, Horde, and Romania. Very little information came out of the Holy Capital, beyond the races that made up these two coalitions, and the fact they were permitted to engage in negotiation with the other Brimiric countries, most likely for trade.

A few pieces of information that had been sent to both Tristan's government and the academy itself. The largest piece of information being the nature and identity of the attackers. Much of the reason that a Netherlord had been called upon, was due to her expertises were supposed to be second to none.

He was sure that Headmaster Osmond had his own reasons to call on such a knowledgable figure, seeing as that he had requested the Netherlord arrive a few days in advance. It was only a matter of time before the existence of this Legion broke out. Did he want knowledge from expert about how best to defend the school, or possibly ward it from demonic intruders? Or did he want such an individual on hand? A class that taught students about demon's, and how best to counter and avoid them, would alleavate some concerns.

Though if the latter was true, more concerns would be added. Like how they would convince one who was a known adventure, explorer, and clearly, high ranking official around. As the swirling portal flickered to life, forming a glowing purple circle with what looked like a city in the background, two people stepped through.

Colbert noticed the blood elf first. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail that came to around her shoulder. Her green eyes seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, but were flickering with her own power. Most of her skin was covered by black and purple robes, only leaving her hands and face exposed. Her long ears were still, in spite of the breeze.

He couldn't miss the small dagger strapped to her waist. It had no sheath, and appeared to be made of some type of purple crystal, with the hilt inlaid with gold. Nor could he ignore the floating skull next to her. A demon skull, that was as much as he knew, complete with bony horns coming from it's forehead and jaw covered in ornamental gold. A few books were chained to her robes, but they seemed to be held in place by magic, not metal.

She had come with another though. It took only a moment for Colbert to notice the small Gnome with her. White robes inlaid with gold, and a small, crystalian staff in hand. A staff that was glowing under it's own power, with most of it colessing at the top, in the form of a figure he had never seen before.

This Gnome had to be the priest they had requested to look at Louise. Since her failed summoning ritual, his young student had remained unconscious. She was suffering what appeared be an extreme case of willpower exhaustion, despite her failure of the summoning ritual. It puzzled him, and it certainly puzzled any of the water mages they brought in. They already sent a letter home to Louise's parents by this point.

Seeing that both had been called upon for the impending negotiations, this was their last chance to improve Louise's condition before Karin arrived. Nobody was really holding onto hope though. Not even Kirche and Tabitha, who both spend a surprising amount of their free time at Louise's bedside. The sudden compassion of Kirche toward her classmate had surprised him slightly. Colbert was more than aware of both the Zerbast and Valliere rivalry, a rivalry that thus far both had kept alive.

"I'd like to thank you both for coming," Colbert said, looking at the two as the portal winked out behind them. The elf merely nodded while the Gnome smiled happily. "Ms. Marlexana, Siesta will be your servant during your stay here, she will show you to your room when you are ready to do so. Ms. Fastgear, if you would, please follow me to the infirmary." Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw elf frown slightly. He would have to deal with the consequences of that later. Right now, his students came first.

Which left any extremely frightened Siesta alone with a very unamused elf.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Only a handful of seconds were needed to tinker with her Hearthstone was all she needed to make sure it would return herself to the academy at any time. That still didn't make the situation any more awkward than it actually was. Marlexana could easily see the fear on the girl's face. For once, it was not because of the fact she was a warlock, but rather, an elf. She wasn't exactly pleased, but you take a race that has been trained to fear one race, then slap another race similar, but ultimately different, running into issues was expected.

"It's Siesta, yes?" Mar asked, attempting to break the ice. The girl only gave a short nod, staring down at her feet. What did human children like, anyway? No, correction, she wasn't a child, Siesta had a job. So, it was time for the tried and true method of experimenting.

"To the library, then?" Marlexana finally broke down. Maybe some reading might help clear her thoughts. Hopefully, the girl was able to read herself. If all went well, maybe they could bound over literature.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana's eyes were wide open the moment they stepped into the library. Shelves of books, from those to simple reading to tomes of arcane lore and the path to magical power. The thought of what knowledge she could gleam made her esthetic. Due to the talks and time spent rebuilding, not to mention the damage to the structure itself, she hadn't been able to gain access to the Holy Rominian library, much to her dismay.

Thal'kiel even felt glee, pushing the distance he could go to the absolute limit. It almost reminded her of child attempting to reach out for candy, while caught in the parent's grasp. Normally, she would love nothing more to grab as many spells books and tomes as possible and immediately begin cracking down. Even if she couldn't use spells held within, it would give her a much greater idea of what Halkgenia's magic was capable of, and who knew, maybe a spell or two would give her a fresh idea.

However, she was accompanied by someone else. One who may not take so kindly to mindless research, categorizing, and potential experimentation. Actually, the experimentation would likely be saved for outdoor work. Marlexana pursued through the bookshelfs, trying to find a none spell related book to read. By some strange miracle, Tristan's speech was more sophisticated dialect of Orcish, and it's literature, while similar, was more like Common in terms of sentence structure. Thankfully, it didn't have Orcish's biggest quirk, the fact that tone and volume could often change the meaning of words in small, but radical, ways.

It took a few minutes, but she found one. _The History of Tristain_ was it's title. Marlexana grinned feeling the weight of the book in the palm of her hand. Not the heaviest book she'd ever seen, but it would keep her occupied for at least a couple hours.

All that was required now was finding a table. That wasn't a difficult task, seeing a library was built with students in mind. She found one, abetly one that appeared recently inhabited, if the inkwells, feathers, and paper were an indicator. Only one half of the table was in use, though. It's likely two students had a joint project, and had to abandon it temporarily. So she simply sat down directly across from the mess. Marlexana didn't look at any of scrall, but she was interested in the students who clearly showing this much dedication. None of the other tables had such a mess.

Of course, that still left the Siesta problem. The girl kept her distance, keeping close enough to attend to what Marlexana could order her to do, but was outside of arm's reach.

"If you want to sit down and pull up a book, you can," Mar said, attempting to break the silence. Siesta looked completely surprised by such a remark. By what, she wasn't able to tell.

"Are you certain?" Siesta asked, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

"Yes. If anyone has a problem, they'll have to take it up with me, and given the fact I am a guest on a diplomatic meeting of the utmost importance, that is something they don't want to do," Mar smiled. While she didn't prefer to throw her weight around politically, it would be worse to get aggressive with children. Why she stopped using her family name was for that exact reason. Mar wanted to build her own name, and her own legacy, not one connected to her family. Family was important, yes, a fact reinforced every single day due to two of her relatives being dead, but walking.

She just wanted to not have her family's glory to be stepping stones for her own. If was going to go somewhere, it would be under her own power, nobody else's.

It had worked. After many years of dedication, work, and blood, she was a Netherlord, one of the most powerful Warlocks to ever exist. Her mastery of demons was unquestionable, the cursed arts, without hardly peer, and fel flame was an extension of herself.

Her turn to the dark arts was her decision alone, one she made will Silvermoon still burned from the undead hordes that ravaged it. She dived headfirst into dark tomes and horrid books, seeking out power. Marlexana had found that, and far more. Unlike many in the craft, who assumed that the fel was an easy path to power, Mar saw it as to be understood. It wasn't until the Cataclysm that she learned to test her magical power.

Her prior arcane studies had proved useful in her research of the fel. She recorded the chaos, learned from it, molded it. Even if fel was chaos itself, it was also magic. Certain words created certain spells. Certain spells, when performed correctly, would create a certain result.

Marlexana stepped into the world after the Cataclysm, to find more dark works and improve her craft. This world was already shaped by heroes. Her brother and sisters were making their own footprints in the world, slaying mighty monsters, delving deep into ruins and dungeons for gold and other rewards. Countless others, from simple guards to grand adventures, raised their weapons against the darkness.

These siblings were the legacy her shoes were always compared to. Their story had yet to be complete, yet it already overshadowed her own. From the Eastern Kingdoms, to the shattered Outland, to the frozen Northrend, she heard their tales, their adventures. Actions they performed still had an impact on this world, even after the world shaking Cataclysm.

By the time of Pandaria's discovery, she was more than ready. She and countless others stepped onto the shrouded continent. For the first time, her and her older siblings would be equal in their legend. Or so Mar had thought. In reality, her relatives, and their legacy, still hung over her head. Even if she was on the same continent, they had established themselves. They had roots, connections, and a way to use them. She had a name she dared not use, out of both fear of ridicule and insult to pride.

It wasn't until the second opening of the Dark Portal that her name had actually become something. She had spent her time studying whatever she could in Pandrea, even if it was scrapes compared to the best of the best. But with the floodgates of the Iron Horde turned to Azeroth, all who were able answered the call.

Truly it wasn't until the assault of Blackrock Foundry that things truly began to turn around. Unbroken Rage lost it's warlock, and it was in desperate need to a new one. Ultimately, she accepted. However due to her lack of knowledge on how exactly the larger scale instances work, she had swiftly became paste on most encounters. Thankfully, she was a fast learner. She relished in the power that the now forbidden metamorphosis spell would allow her to realish in.

It wasn't horrendously long until history repeated itself. Garrosh's actions had only slowed down the inevitable. Gul'dan took the Iron Horde, corrupting it with demon's blood once again. The day the gates of Hellfire Citadel opened, Unbroken Rage, alongside hundreds of other guilds, rushed in to meet the darkness within its halls. It took days for the strongest, most coordinated guilds, to lay low the abominations within. It took them months.

All the while, the hunt for Gul'dan was on. She offered what aid she could, but even if her skills had drastically improved, the older Warlock was on a whole different level. He was easily considered the most powerful mortal Warlock in history.

During the months between then and and the first assault on the Broken Shore, she spent much of her time practicing her craft. Most went into the studying of long and short term demon summons. As it turns out, one could use an incantation to bind a demon for a short time, while placing a spell that unsummons once the binding agent fades. And with Metamorphous becoming forbidden, her notes had proved pivotal for the newfound arts used by Demonology Warlocks. As such, she was invited into help summon a demon by the Council of the Black Harvest after the Broken Shore disaster. Which created another disaster of summoning a Pit Lord they couldn't control, which captured them all, and only by luck she managed to escape, kill the demon, use it's power, and rebuilt the Council.

Marlexana's skill as a demon summoner allowed her ultimately ascend as the Horde's Netherlord. She still fought alongside her guildmates whenever she could, but things had changed a little. Maltuk, now Warchief, was no longer able to lead them into battle. He had other battles to fight that required his own direct, personal attention. But they were heroes just the same, and they had a job to do. Even if many of them were medium to high ranking members of their respective orders.

It took long enough for Siesta to find a book. Intentionally, she supposed. Ultimately, she was unnerved. This, blood elf, the sister of their Regent Lord, was not like many of the nobles she had meet. There was pride the her, yet, it felt like a pride that was deserved, of something earned. She wasn't given much information, only the order to follow the woman's commands.

All that meant was this woman was important. But it wasn't till she saw her that Siesta began to understand. Marlexana's eyes blazed with sickly green power, long ears showing her pridefully her elven blood. One mistake, and Siesta could be snuffed out. So far, none of her actions had showed anger, merely asking questions. The only order she had really given her was to find a book, and talk. To very much doable orders, all things considered. She was just thankful her parents made her learn to read and write.

Unfortunately, there weren't many books for her to read. Many of the tomes that took up shelf space were of magical nature, and were useless to her. Most of the remaining contents were things like history, which didn't have much interest to her. Siesta favorite books were of the more, personal, variety.

Finally, she just chose a book that was outside of the spell section. The elf was already in action, eyes scouring her book for information, brow furrowed in concentration. The floating skull was constricted to merely orbit around, almost like some type of halo. If anything unnerved her more than the elf, it was that artifact. It's vacant eye sockets followed her, as if still alive. As if the being that birthed it still resided within. It horrified her to no end. Yet the elf remained as calm ever.

"So, what is your homeland like?" Siesta asked as she sat down, still somewhat unnerved. Almost on an instinctual level, Marlexana seemed to flinch, before letting out a sigh.

"The woods would be beautiful, this time of year, I suppose, just coming into bloom. Quel'thalas's open fields full of flowers and golden grass. Of course, the spires we created, testament to what is the birthright of the Sin'dorei, and Silvermoon, the shining jewel of our nation, rebuild and reforged when the Scourge tried to burn it all to the ground," Marlexana said, lost in thought. "Our lands were so beautiful, before the Scourge. Now, it's just a struggle to make them whole again. Even with the connection to their master severed, the dead still raise. It may take a lifetimes before the wounds healed."

Siesta paused, frightened. She just brought up something that clearly had an impact on the Warlock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't," Siesta panicked. She opened her mouth ounce, and it already proved it was a mistake.

"Of course you didn't know. While the desecration of my homeland and lose of my family and friends still saddens me, the lose only adds fuel to my strength," she stated, eyes locked in an intense glare, though with who or what was unknown. "Besides, us Sin'dorei are not dead yet, and there has been some measure of progress in the Ghostlands. I may not live to see it, but my homeland will be whole again."

Siesta nodded. Though her mind began to wonder, just exactly how old was she? Her, I may not live to see my homeland whole, thing kind of just made her seem like her age was advanced, despite the fact she only appeared to be in her twenties.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" Siesta asked, curiosity slowly getting the better of her. Bringing up painful memories of this elf's homeland hadn't got rejected, and while you weren't supposed to ask a ladies age, she simply had to know.

The warlock loud out a laugh that seemed to echo throughout the library, disturbing whoever would be within. "I'll indulge that curiosity of yours, only if you indulge mine!" Siesta could have sworn, if only for a moment, the warlock's eyes seemed to flicker toward her chest.

"After all, I did just turned seventy this year," the elf's eyes held a twinkle, as Siesta's mouth simple dropped. She was older than her grandparents! And Mar only looked a few years older than she was! Was this an example of elven longevity?

"Seventeen," Siesta managed to respond. The elf raised an eyebrow alone. Siesta didn't think she looked older or younger than she actually was. Or was the slight surprise due to other reasons.

"Siesta, what do you know about power?" Marlexana's question took the girl off guard. Siesta paused. She knew the answer, if it was a noble asking the question. Anything else would be considered heresy. But the warlock clearly wasn't looking for that answer. Yes, she had said magic was a part of her blood, a part of her birthright. But that didn't mean magic was the only form of power. The elf took her silence as being reluctant to answer.

"Power simple leads to power. Power is power. Now, the type of power, and where it comes from, well, that matters far less than one might expect," Marlexana said, as if quoting someone word for word. "My mentor said that, back when I was studying the arcane arts. Though he did try to turn himself into a lich, so his differentiation isn't entirely correct."

"Personally, power takes shapes of it's own. Power you gain, come from what you are willing to put into it. Talent only gets an individual so far," the warlock seemed to be in her element as she spoke. "Some power, however is much more trivail in nature, but it's power nonetheless. For example, power gained from having larger ears means it is much easier to hear someone sneaking around."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I think I'll let this chapter end here. Less action, and much more dialogue and character based. I hope I did well with Siesta, all things considered.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you next time!


	9. Academy of Magic: Part 2

It's Review answering time!

Sharkdude: Thank you!

Suaran: Who could it be?

Artyom: Thank you! Spelling has never been a strong suit of mine, even though I try my best. Sadly, the next few chapters will be kind of infodumpy. I have a lot planned, and many things to set up.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You know, you didn't have to kick them out," Kithkiris said, still sounding happy despite the pout on her face. Colbert wasn't sure how to respond. Romania said the humans had a child like appearance, but they didn't mention anything about such a positive personality. "It would be nice to wake up surrounded by your friends!"

"I'm not exactly sure if Miss. Valliere and Miss. Zerbast are actually friends," Colbert frowned. If those two were friends, they had an odd way of showing it, often times intentionally antagonizing the other. The Gnome waved her hand at the suggestion.

"If they've spend as much time down here of their own free will, then there isn't any other explanation, is there? Is this the patient?" Kithkiris looked at the bed. Bright pink hair greeted her. The girl's face was extremely youthful, her slumber only adding to it.

Louise, even under the covers, was barely the height of a standard dwarf, and clearly didn't have the bulk. Even before her coma, the girl would have had to be extremely thin. She looked so out of place compared to the other students. If appearance was Kithkiris's measuring stick, the girl would have been an ill prodigy, not an extreme failure.

As Colbert mulled over her words, she called upon her magic, The Holy Light. Warmth flew through her body as it began to glow, bathing the whole room in a pleasant light. It's cuirass sought to mend, to heal any wounds it came across, only to find nothing.

Frowning in the first time since her arrival, Kithkiris pushed harder. The light became harsher, but no less caring, as waved over the girl's mind and soul, once again turning up with nothing. Slowly, the glow died, gnome still frowning. It seemed almost on every level, nothing was wrong. Her body was whole, no wound or venom draining the young girl's life before her eyes. Likewise, her mind was untouched by madness, and her soul burned with the flame of youth.

"You said she passed out after your familiar summoning ritual?" Kithkiris asked. Perpahse the answer was there. The Gnome was aware how rare the condition was on Azeroth, given most spellcaster's wouldn't let their magical reserves reach that point, and it seemed mana recharged at a much faster rate than willpower, but maybe it was something similar.

"Yes, she did," Colbert confirmed, questioning why the bright glow had made him feel better about himself than he had in years. He didn't mention how the girl started screaming during the earthquake that happened afterwards. "We believe she is suffering from willpower exhaustion."

"Yes. I do believe that diagnosis is partially correct. Rather than simply using all her willpower reserves to her limit, I think she went beyond that, drawing it to simply zero," Kithkiris spoke, quite serious. "I've only read about it, and it's quite rare, but every once and awhile, someone will deplete all of their mana, and be unable to generate more. Mercifully, the cure for this condition is quite simple. They must receive a mana from an outside source. Think of it as, adding a jolt of energy to an engine to get it to start."

To anyone else, the metaphor would have been lost, but to Colbert, he understood it perfectly. If a Mage's body was a machine, then willpower would be it's fuel. Mages need willpower to function, and that was well known fact. Typically, pushing past that limit would kill the mage. But Louise wasn't an ordinary mage, that much he know. It was possible for the Gnome's theory to hold some weight.

"So, is there some type of willpower potion, because I have no idea what a mana potion would do to her," Kithkiris spoke. To that Colbert had to frown. No, there wasn't a willpower potion, as far as he knew. The gnome puffed out her checks, only adding to her child like appearance.

"Ok, so we either need to find an entirely new type of potion in the time span of a few days, or we can try using a continuous mage to test for effects. I don't like using living experimentation, but if the situation is as bad as you say it is, we may just have to make that call," Kithkiris was calm, though her tone held onto a touch of unease. Under every much normal circumstances, Colbert would be very much against it. There was no telling what could happen. But Louise was his student, and she wasn't well.

"I'll do it," Colbert said. It was about the only thing he could do. He wasn't going to let anyone else risk their lives doing this. If he did, he would only have more crimes to redeem himself from. Kithkiris nodded, handing him a vial of blue liquid. With one last cringe of reluctance, he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and drank.

Mana potions were often time's a raids saving grace, able to restore magical power to key members of a raid at key times. Typically, healers. However, since their alchemical discovery, they needed to be increased in potency to fit an all new skill ceiling. Once one of these hit your stomach, you mana reserves would spike.

Like Kithkiris said, mana was not willpower. However, that didn't mean both forces were remarkably similar. Similar enough for such a potion to work, without the safety limit of your own magical limits.

Which was why Colbert, for the first time in his life, felt like he was having a hard time controlling his magic. He grimaced in pain as fire twisted inside him, struggling to find release. For merely a few moments, he felts as if he was burning in his own flame. However, as fast as the pain came, it stopped afterwards, receding as swiftly as it appeared.

Colbert took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. This was the second time something he couldn't explain had happened. He had no idea what just happened, and quite frankly, didn't want to. Maybe it was because he hadn't used any spells all day, and thus was close if not at full.

Kithkiris seemed to be at the ready, light glowing in her palms, just in case he needed medical attention. Thankfully, none was needed, for the time being. While drinking the potion wasn't a pleasant experience, he was very much still alive and in one piece. Reluctantly he nodded.

The gnome pulled out another flask of the same blue liquid, before propping up Louise's head. It dribbled into her mouth, swiftly plummeting into her stomach. Making sure all of the liquid entered Louise's stomach, and that she didn't start choking. Once she was certain the danger had passed, Kithkiris placed the girl back down. At this point the only thing to do was wait.

Thankfully, mana potions were designed to be ingested mid combat. Thus, it took merely a handful of seconds for the potion to take effect. Anything less was simply impractical. While Louise's eyes remained closed they seemed to soften considerably. A sigh exited the child's throat as she turned to her side, body finally free to move.

"She needs rest now," Kithkiris said, looking down at the child. "I'll watch over her tell then." Colbert was uncertain about leaving Louise with the gnome, but not out of fear for her safety. Rather, it was Louise's reaction that he was most afraid of. She would not be aware of the changes that had transpired in the world around her, and a upon waking, she would still be weak.

However, Colbert also knew that the headmaster was waiting. He had likely spent more than enough time on this, and would likely be punished for it. Ignoring a diplomatic guest in such a fashion was an insult.

"Thank you," Colbert said, turning to leave. He didn't get out the door without hearing Kithkiris say, "If you're looking for the Netherlord, she is likely in your library."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana could already tell one of the two observing her had tensed up. As a blood elf, she had a vast understanding of magic, and could sense it's pileup. Understandable, given that here, elf's were considered monstrous heretics. While the second seemed much more rational, but she was stronger than her peer in the magical sphere. Thankfully, the second seemed to be talking her companion down from a fight. Which was good. Mar was fairly certain she had seen fire, and bringing that into a libary was just asking for the place to go up in smoke.

Both appeared from behind one of the bookcases. The first was much taller than her friend, with darkened skin and red hair, though her hair was darker than the elf's own. She wore the academy uniform, though the way she wore it would leave little to anyone's imagination. Her friend was was shorter, with her pale skin and seemingly emotionless blue eyes granting her a doll like appearance. If it wasn't for that blank stare, she would look much, much younger, especially in the eyes of an elf.

"Am I correct to assume that this is your work?" Mar asked, waving her hand over the mess before her. The taller of the two seemed nervous still, shifting her feet. As much as the behavior was annoying, she would simply have to get used to it.

"Yes," the bluenette said, surprising her, sitting down without any physical appearance of fear. Mar couldn't tell whether to be impressed, or worried. Fear wasn't in itself a bad thing. Letting it control oneself, utterly and entirely, yes, but being afraid wasn't bad. Confidence may have been the cause, but she couldn't tell. Finally, her friend decided to join her.

"So, research project?" Marlexana questioned, curious. Naturally, she hadn't taken a look. That would be immoral. But she was curious, and honestly, quite proud of both students. If her own warlocks had this much incentive, then she wouldn't be as annoyed as she was with them, all the while keeping them from blowing themselves up, getting themselves ripped apart by demons, or from cursing themselves into the void. Seriously, she knew the fel was dangerous, but how do you mess up that badly!

"Personal," the bluenette said again, clearly not a fan of long sentences. Well, if that was the case, then she should stop her prying. Still, she didn't like the silence. Siesta at this point was deeply entranced by the book in her hands.

"I see. It must be quite the issue. Though, did class let out? I would expect this place to be much more crowded if so," Marlexana simply cocked her head to the side, curious. The chattering of hundreds of children would be something she expected herself to hear. It would be about a subtile as a rockslide.

"No, we were at the infirmary, and had to leave," finally, the red head spoke up, though it was clear that she was still uneasy. Mar frowned. He had expected someone hurt when she learned a priest had been requested. Then if that was the case, maybe some of the wounded classmates took it upon themselves to find a solution.

"Then am I safe to assume that this project has something to do with the person in the infirmary?" the blood elf questioned, with the red head's flintch of surprse confirming what wasn't said. Mar herself was slightly annoyed by the action, but still smiled lighly nonetheless."Doing such a thing. I'm willing to bet the person will be thankful for your efforts." Mar was perfectly aware of the fresh front of wincing her statement brought with it.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," the red-head stammered out. This only served to increase Mar's curiosity about the situation.

"Please, do tell. And before we continue, I do not believe I have any of your names," Mar stated. It was true, she hadn't heard either of their names. Normally, such would be natural manors, to have someone's name before engaging in this much conversation. But seeing as the two striking conversation were rebels of very different strips.

"I'm Kirche von' Zerbst, of Germinia, and that's Tabitha," the girl now idintified as Kirchie said. The bluenette, who was dubbed Tabitha looked up from her book for a moment, nodding, before her gaze returned to the pages. Mar was taken back by the differences. Kirchie was of some noble house she clearly wanted to have her name connected to, alongside her nation of origin. Meanwhile, Tabitha simply had a name, of no royal house connected to it, and shrouded her nation of origin, despite her being the strongest.

"Marlexana, Netherlord of the Horde, Master of Half of the First Circle, Demon Breaker, Vessel of the Eternal Army, Caller of the Unending Legion, and Mimicker of Demon Lords. Mar, Lex, or Ana are perfectly fine," the blood rattled off a few of the titles she had acquired. Honestly, despite how one would likely use it as an insult, she was really quite proud of the last one. While that spell did leave her in the drained department, hence why it was rarely used, but that didn't stop her from shamelessly admitting it was ripped straight off of Archimonde.

All three girls simply stared at her, though the warlock couldn't tell whether it was because of the assortment of titles, the titles themselves, the fact she realized her name was annoying to say and had given them other options. It could have been all of the above. Even Tabitha's eyebrow was raised.

"Moving on," Mar waved, in an attempt to get things started again. It took a few moments for shock to finally wear off.

"Um, are you aware of the Familiar Summoning Ritual?" Kirchie asked. Mar nodded. She hadn't witnessed it, but she was aware of what allowed a mage to summon familiars, which often were a reflection of the mage or augmenting their abilities. Much like her own abilities when it came to binding demons.

"Well, one of the students failed, but she is suffering from willpower exhaustion," Kirchie started, and Mar could already tell where things were going. "Which, if she hadn't summoned anything, or at the least, wasn't a mage, then she wouldn't be unconscious right now."

"Was it considered that she may have summoned something invisible? Something small that would be difficult seeing? Or something," Mar's face froze in horror briefly, before shaking her head. No, no that was impossible. Why had the thought even crossed her mind? Sure, this person hadn't summoned a familiar anyone was aware of, but summoning Azeroth? That was absurd! Correlation didn't mean causation. At least, that's what she continued to tell herself as her and Kirchie continued to bounce ideas off of eachother. Either the younger girl failed to notice, or simply didn't want to bring it up.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Colbert arrived not much later, expecting the worst. There was a reason that he had requested that that warlock go to her staying quarters. None beyond him and the servant he assigned to her would have known of her presence. While it was entirely possible that Kirche and Tabitha hadn't gone back to the library, he had his doubts.

"Always explosions? Interesting indeed. At the very least, that would have to indicate more than just a small degree of magical power," he managed to hear the Warlock's voice from behind a corner. As his gaze came to rest upon the table, he was quite surprised. Tabitha was reading a book, no big surprise, but she was joined by the servant girl. Colbert had no idea she was literate.

"Really?" Kirhcie's voice showed puzzlement at the elf's words, and frankly, so did Colbert. He and the headmaster had their own suppositions, but at the same time, they had no way to prove it.

"Yes. It's extremely likely that she has more power than she can possibly control, which is why her spells always explode," the warlock mused. Colbert frowned. That was an interesting theory, and if what he personal believed was true was actually so, it wasn't far off. "Though I wouldn't be sure until I saw her cast myself."

"And based on the fact you are here, it's safe to assume she has received the necessary treatment," if Colbert could see her face, he would have been greeted by a smirk. Kirchie, on the other hand jumped up in shock taken off guard by his sudden appearance.

"Colbert sir, I!" was about as far as Kirchie got, before Marlexana interrupted her.

"The fault is mine, child. I was curious to what type of project it was and why this was the only table in use," Marlexana turned from Kirchie to Colbert, grinning slightly. "You are blessed to have such kind and carrying students." Kirchie's shifting feet were not lost of Thal'keil or on Colbert. But this time, the warlock seemed ignorant of the behavior happening behind her.

Colbert paused, unsure of what to say for a few seconds. "Thank you. I've come to take you to the headmaster," he finally decided to say. The red headed elf nodded.

"Siesta!" the use of the girl's name caught her attention, causing her to look up. "I am headed to the headmaster's office. Would you wish to accompany me?" The simple fact she had asked, rather than ordered, caught Colbert off guard. It didn't take long for the girl to nod, though he wasn't sure it was because she was in the presence of three nobles, or if she really wanted to.

"Thank you for your time," the elf bowed slightly to before the two girls. Another action that surprised him. Despite that, the way to the headmaster's office was silent.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"So this is the Horde's famous Netherlord," the old man in front of her said, sitting down at his desk. She supposed he looked like what many humans imagine an old mage to look like. Long flowing beard, somehow a full head of hair, as white as snow.

To top that all off, he was also quite pervy. Hence why his mouse familiar was currently being chased around the room by Thal'keil. A person from earth would likely compare it to a Tom and Jerry skit, expect only with magic and the fact the metaphorical cat appeared to be winning.

While both those talking ignored the comical background event, the remaining three people in the room could not. Longueville, who had her skirt peeked up by more than once by the small rodent, was secretly cheering the skull on. Colbert was completely unsure of how both combatants were acquiring their magical gear, while also wondering how a floating skull with no eyes could shoot shadowy magic beams from it's eyes. All the while Siesta was simply praying that the chaos didn't make it's way toward her.

"I take it your time here thus far has been satisfactory?" the aging man continued.

"The hospitality I have received has been nothing short of excellent," Mar said, smilingly slightly. "However, I am curious as to why you requested I arrived so early."

"As I'm sure you've guessed, the Legion's surprise attack on Romania has many families concerned for the safety of their children," Osmund stated, Marlexana nodding in agreement. Of course, parents would be concerned for their children.

"Likely, the Legion's assault on Romania was due to volume of high ranking members from all parties being present. Such an attack, if successful, would have likely set off a war between all parties involved, but also cause what remained of Romania's leadership to declare crusade," Marlexana thought aloud. "It is unlikely the Legion has the number's or even the desire to waste more resources for such an assault."

"Yes, but that isn't even to sooth over fears. So, we contacted you," Osmund looked up at her from his seat. "I would like to offer you a job as a teacher at this academy."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Marlexana had been expecting many things. But being a teacher here? Would she even be allowed to do that? The man seemed to sense her hesitation.

"I have actually gone over the agreement between the Alliance and Horde that outlined the behavior of the Orders," Osmund continued, attempting to sell the deal. "The academy, while based in Tristain, takes students from every nation. Not only that, it states that any member is free to pursue their own goals, provided do not use Order resources. These rules state nothing against working at a school that teaches students from several nations."

Marlexana thought. Normal combat operations with her guild were standard, week hours, later on during the night. Which was early morning here. So, possibly wait after lunch for class, and if she tweaked her sleeping hours a bit, such a job would be possible.

"That will depend on exactly what you wish me to teach," Mar stated cautiously. She had already been requested by the pope, no less, none too subtle terms to not teach fel magic to any Halkeginian, natural mage or not. She could understand the concern. In a society where magic made right, anyone being able to get their hands on it would cause social upheaval that would shake their new neighbors to the core. But at the same time, she didn't particularly care much for the threats, which simply made her want take an apprentice out of spite.

She wasn't going to risk relations on a mass scale though, if that what was being asked of her. One shouldn't hurt in the long run, but that was something for the future.

"Nothing involving teaching your craft. We need someone who can allow our students to defend themselves against demonic attack. Not only do you have a reputation of being a master summoner, but a master binder as well," Osmund explained, looking quite keen on the matter. It seemed like he'd done his research. Of course, that still didn't mean there wouldn't be issues. Hiring a warlock, and an elf, no less, would likely lead to a drop in enrollment.

But she was the best qualified for such a task, by more than a considerable margin. Gears in her mind had already started to turn. Naturally, allowing children to play with demons was a bad idea. Before Mar could even consider it, she'd have to find a way to separate those who could be trusted to handle themselves in a safe manner from those who couldn't. Which meant a theory class, before moving on to practicals. Of course, the former would have to be longer. As much as Marlexana didn't care to admit it, there were some demon's even she couldn't break. Higher rank demons, like Pit Lords and others. Finally, she opened her eyes.

"I'm in."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That's a wrap! We get to see what's going on with Louise (after 7 chapters), and it seems like Marlexana has decided to join the faculty at the Tristain Academy of Magic. Expect all sorts of drama coming from that front.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you next time!


	10. Preparation for Class

Sharkdude5: Thank you!

Artyom: I'm glad you're excited.

Tippi roll: Colbert playing with tech is kind of a given. And for your second, well, as a Warlock, natural animals tend to avoid Mar anyway, and adding in a magical element to that likely doesn't help matters. And for the last, well, that would be spoilers, but I do have plenty of ideas on how to take Fouquet's character.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

New Class: Defense Against Demons

The Defense Against Demons course is a new, optional course, available to all students who are willing to learn proper defensive techniques against Legion forces. This class is divided into the two parts. Theory, and practice, the first must be passed to take the second. Books will be provided to everyone who enroll.

Are you prepared?

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I have to admit, the 'Are you prepared?' was a nice touch," Kithkiris grinned. Marlexana nodded. Sure, she ripped off Illidan's particle catchphrase, but this was simple too good to pass up. All too fitting for such an advertisement, alongside the red ink. She had managed to find a printer for this little project, though she had some desire to do the new grimoire herself, it would be impossible to do alone.

 _Demonology, a Beginners Defense Primar_ was a joint affair, taken up with a few printers at the capital willing to work with her. Heck, she'd even purchased an anti-magic sword she saw in a bin. Call it private research, but she wondered if she could replicate the enchantment, but so far, it had proven a waste.

"I also heard that they are planning to have a Azerothian History class," Kithkiris grinned, preparing to check back up on her patient, "I wonder who they are going to hire?" There were plenty of scribes and lorekeepers between the Horde and Alliance to chose from, but something told her they didn't want that.

"Lorewalker Cho," Marlexana said. What? The pandaren had a reputation and was a complete historical know it all. Pandaria becoming open the world merely gave Cho more material to learn.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Guchie frowned at the poster that had been appearing around the school. Many had scoffed at it's presence and many students were being pulled back home or simply elsewhere. This was due to the elf, he was sure. That meant she was likely the teacher of this new class. Yes, she, he was aware of that much. He had a tendency to avoid her, and the floating skull of hers. Not exactly a good first impression.

Still, the headmaster had hired her, which meant he thought she was a good fit for the job. And his father hadn't removed him from the academy yet. Did he not think Osmund had done so, or did he think that hiring this elf was a tactically intelligent move? Guchie was a General's son, after all. His father had told him knowledge was at times, the ultimate weapon. If the Legion was truly a threat, then the knowledge to defend oneself and loved ones would prove useful.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"So that's why she arrived early," Kirche said to herself, looking up at the poster. A single tack held it in place, allowing it to flutter in the wind. While the name of the class left a lot to be desired, it sounded very practical. It simply spoke of how much the Legion was feared, for such a class to be viewed as necessary. Thought there was certainly going to be a lot of backlash over permitting an elf to teach at the Academy.

Kirche wasn't blind to that. Just a few short weeks ago, everyone would be calling him a heretic, and certainly would have no problems with the man being burned or hanged. However many of Azeroth's races had become exempt of many of the rules or traits that defined their Halkgenian counterparts. Even the Light, a large beleif system shared by multiple members of both factions, despite each having it's own form of reverence, while heretical, seeing that humans of Azeroth where descent from a non-human race, also got a pass.

She wasn't exactly sure how they managed to agree on religion. As she understood it, The Church wouldn't send missionaries to Azeroth, while Azeroth's own religious organizations would also not send missionaries into Halkeginia. This was something the gnome priestess understood, it seemed. She hadn't really shown off her blessings, and only talked about the Light when asked.

Kirche was unsure how to feel about Louise's new caretaker. She was serisou about her patentant, but also about them spending too much time at Louise's bedsde. And being levitated out of a room by someone shorter than Louise as that crystal staff of hers hummed. How did crystal hum?

Kirche shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Honestly, it would propably be in her best interests to join. As one of the few Germanian mages at the Academy of Magic, she could send what she learned home. It might not be much, but it would be better than nothing.

"I'm thinking about joining. What about you?" Kirche asked, earning a nod from the bluenette. Even though she had reasons of her own.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Montmorency ,known by a few as Mon-Mon, sighed at the new poster hanging on the notice board. The hideous red coloring was used to simply make it stick out more, as if offering a class almost a month after the familiar summoning ritual wasn't enough. This had something to do with the elf she had seen walking around, she just knew it.

She would have written a letter to her father to have her removed at once the first time, but Montmorency new pulling her out of the academy was an expense her family simply couldn't afford. Private tutors cost a great deal of money. Money her family simply didn't have at the moment. Not only that Azeroth's arrival, more specifically, shamans and druids, were likely to have an impact on what her family's trade. Negotiations would have to go poorly for that not to happen, and they likely chose Tristan, the smallest of the Brimiric nations for some insidious purpose.

Still, she was aware her boyfriend was likely to sign up, and that the attack on Romania by Legion forces could repeat itself, anywhere else in Halkeginia. And, well, if she just so happened that the teacher wasn't as sincere as people thought she was, then Montmorency would be able to report it to the proper authorities.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

For the first time in under a month, Louise's body groaned in shorness. Her eyes finally flickered open, before closing them a light rushed in, causing her to hiss in pain.

"You're awake! This is good news indeed!" a voice said to her left. She couldn't recognize who it was. Risking it, she opened her eyes again, with her vision being taken up by an unknown face. Pink hair, pink eyes, just like her own, alongside a face that made whoever this was look like a child. Even younger than her, if she had to make a guess.

It took a few moments for Louise to realize that she wasn't in her own bed, but rather, the one in the infirmary. That simple thought caused her to lurch forward, before clutching her head. A throbbing pain coursed through her skull like wildfire. She tried thinking back as far as she could. Louise remembered the ritual, and then the pain. It felt like something had been ripped from her body, torn from her chest as if her organs had been savagely extracted.

"You need to rest, child. You've nearly been out for a month," the pinkette spoke, trying to keep Louise from rising any further. The news shocked her, reverberating through Louise's mind. She had been unconscious? For a whole month? This only made her struggle more, swinging her legs to the right side of the bed, before attempting to stand.

Louise's legs hadn't been used during that month, and they gave way swiftly, nearly falling face first, if it wasn't for the swift actions of her caretaker. Louise's nose was less than a centimeter from the ground, but her body was suspended in the air. It was now she finally got a good look at her healer.

She was tiny, smaller than Louise herself by a considerable margin. She wore pale white robes with gold threads running along it's surface, long and flowing. The staff her hand seemed to hum with light, as if singing, it's blue crystalian head glowing faintly.

"You're short" Louise said, before slapping her hand over her mouth. That was not something she should have said.

"I'm actually within the standard height deviation for my kind. You on the other hand, are quite limited for your age," Louise received a slight grin, despite the fact she had just insulted the small women. She was still chuckling, her voice light and pleasant to Louise's ears.

"What do you mean, your kind?" Louise asked. Even the voice's charm hadn't let that escape. What had happened during her near month of rest?

"I am a Gnome. You must realize, there has been a great amount of change since you fell into slumber," the individual, know identified as a gnome, whatever that was, reached for Louise's bedside table. They were news bulletins, and plenty of them, and she spotted a book or two among the massive stack as well. The top few were fairly standard, involving damage caused by an earthquake that happened after the ritual. Two weeks of fairly bland things, and a few mentionings of coastal raiders along Rominia's shoreline, but nothing major.

Then the big stuff hit, and it hit hard. The coastal raids and slaughters were beings known as Kvaldir, beings with souls infused with dark power, placed into physical forms. Things only became stranger from there on out. This Alliance, this Horde, that the papers spoke of. The Legion's assault on the Holy Capital.

Everything was complete and utter chaos. What exactly had transpired while she was asleep? It was simply, just, mind boggling. Even without her throbbing headache, she would have problems wrapping her head around this.

"Kithkiris, it's lunch time. Do you want me to grab you something?" an unknown voice asked from the hallway. Glowing green eyes, long red hair, and a pair of long, knife like ears. Louise's eyes widened in absolute fear, as Kithkiris waved her hands signaling that the blood elf made an error. Louise's fingers twitched around her wand, which had somehow been placed in her bedside.

"Fireball!" BOOM!

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana was far from impressed at first. The spell itself was clearly, no fireball at all, but rather, so form of pressurized energy. She let it impact her demon armor spell, a defensive spell that Warlocks used, capable of absorbing punishment from both spell and blade. In a world were spellcasters tended to wear cloth, the ability to stop one from being cleaved apart by just a random person with an axe was perfect.

It detonated, exploding with enough force to cause most to step back. Marlexana remained unmoved, when as Kithkiris removed Louise's wand from her hand, horror showing on her face.

"Mar, are you alright?" panic filled her voice, only to get a chuckle of response.

"Of course I am. It would take a lot more than that to get through…" Marlexana paused. Something wasn't quite right. Her demon armor was gone. No, that wasn't quite right. It hadn't been broken. It had been turned off. A quick magical check to the rest of her gear revealed that everything remained in working order.

"I'm fine," Marlexana stated, realizing Kithkiris was looking up at her due to her pause. She turned her head to face the girl. She had seen Louise's unconscious form more than once, and the look of fear on her face presently felt wrong. She brought her eyes down to the much longer girl's level.

"Relax, I'm not mad. If nothing else, I'm impressed. Even if you didn't intend to, being able to despell my defensive magic is no small feat. I'll hope to see you in class, young one," Marlexana smiled slightly, while Louise's face was now showing more shock than anything else. "And Kithkiris, I'll be bringing in some food. You patiant just got up, and she hasn't had anything solid in months. Celebrate a little!"

"What?" was Louise's only response. She just hit an elf, in the face with one of her explosions, and it's only reaction was to tell her she hoped to see her in class?

"You may want to prepare yourself. This is going to take a while," the now identified Kithkiris groaned, rubbing her hand against her nose. For the first time since her arrival, the almost trademark grin on her face had vanished.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Louise's brain was on the edge of exploding. All this, this. Well, honestly, it really couldn't be called hersey if the church approved of it all, but still, she found it all to be a stretch. She had asked Kithkiris, who was, despite being a heretic in every sense of the word, was far too caring and compassionate, to leave. She didn't need to do the things she had, but she did them anyway.

But that wasn't the heretic part. Louise simply wanted time to think. By all rights, she had failed the familiar summoning ritual. She wasn't a mage. The ritual confirmed that. Then why was this elf impressed! Kithkiris had explained exactly who the elf was.

Sister to the blood elf Regent Lord. Netherlord of the Council of the Black Harvest. Demon Breaker. Summoner of Hounds. Those titles, and worse, were names she was known by. Ancient among humans, but young amongst elves, and yet, she held on to this honor.

So, why was she impressed? Because she removed some obscure defensive spell. That meant nothing in the long run, It wouldn't help her succeed, some odd coincidence wouldn't allow her to stay. Louise''s stubbornness brought enough shame on her family. She was a bit surprised her parents hadn't already pulled her out of school already. Louise let out a sigh. At the very least, she should catch up on all the world shattering events she missed.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana was locked in deep thought. Louise's little magic stunt had shaken her greatly. She would need to run more tests, but she would bet a large sum of gold that the blade she had bought was enchanted with similar magic. A twinge of fear filled her spine, as she recalled Azeroth's summoning. Marlexana would need to go over Thal'kiel's memories again, but she sworn the magical aura was at the very least similar.

Much to her surprise, she found the door to her chambers open. Strange. She knew she had closed the door before she left, and locked it too. However, she had little to fear from thieves, so she stepped through, only to see two men manhandling the Specter of Sargeras. Dismissing Thal'kiel, she called the weapon to her hand. The moment the staff touched the palm of her hand, her eyes blazed with fel might, as fel fire increased drastically in power.

Marlexana tapped the ground, causing to blazing rings of green flame to erupt from the ground.

"I will only ask once. Who are you, what are you doing here, and what made you think messing around with a weapon that can destroy entire worlds was a good idea?" she glared at the two, flames flickering around her form. Both men were stammering, either out of fear, or to stall for time. Regardless of which, it didn't stop her from noticing the commotion in the courtyard.

This was why Marlexana was happy for her first floor statis. Chaotic bindings encircled the two men, as she opened the window into the brisk spring air.

"Let me go!" a voice demanded. Siesta! Marlexana was already on the move closing the distance rather quickly. What she saw was disturbing. Siesta was in her normal clothing, but she was being dragged around by some rich man, easily old enough to be her father.

Marlexana's rage was palpable, causing multiple looks to turn her way. The fat man leapt back as she increased the heat were his arm was. Siesta stumbled backwards, as green flame erupted between the two, flickering and dancing until Marlexana herself was able to move between the two. Her eyes were narrow, brightened by her anger.

"Do you know who I am?" the man snapped, sneering upward in a poor attempt at intimidating her. The white frill around his neck, along with his red fancy suit and brown mustache that just screamed danger to children, he only looked ridiculous.

"No, but I know what you are. You are a thief," Marlexana flickered her staff forward, sending the two she had caught sneaking her room behind the man. "A kidnapper, possibly a rapist, and a bully."

"You are filth of the lowest kind. And before you try to do something you'll regret, you should know that I was called here for an upcoming diplomatic season between Tristain, the Horde, and the Alliance," She continued, glaring down at the man as fel fire flickered around her. "You are a minor noble at best, easily replaceable by someone else far more deserving of a title, one who would not abuse their power. And you probably will, because I think I can speak for both the Warchief and the High King that they would not approve of your actions."

At this point, the man was fuming, rage turning beyond the point speaking. Yeah, maybe she had gone a tad overkill, but the pitiful man deserved it. If this was how he was willing to treat a person who had no power, then he didn't deserve the blessing he had been given.

"I challenge you to a duel!" the man shouted. "I will not be slandered by a knifed eared fool!" Silence filled the air. Yeah, maybe she did deserve that one, but that didn't stop her from nearly blasting the human where he stood.

"Very well. Step back, children," Marlexana ordered, flames already flickering around her. She merely chuckled to herself. This man had no idea how far out of his league he was.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Another letter of disapproval, and threatening to remove their student from the school," Longueville sighed, using her wand to shift through the massive stack of letters on her desk.

"Put it in the pile," Osmund said, taking a smoke from his pipe. Normally, Longueville would snatch the object away from the old man, but she was simply to busy. Osmund was as well, furiously pinning letters to enraged noblemen and women. This had become a larger problem than he originally anticipated.

"General Gramont supports the measure wholeheartedly, it seems," she said, shifting the letter into one of the much smaller piles. A high ranking general may sway same, but it wouldn't change the minds of many, especially without the crowns blessing. "And the Valliere family as well, though it seems Lady Valliere would like to meet the Netherlord before saying anything on the matter."

Osmund shuttered at the thought. Karin was dangerous enough of a mage as it stood. Things would either go quite well between the two powerful women, or terribly, terribly wrong. A bright flash of green shined through the window.

"It seems that the Netherlord has meet Count Mott. Do you want me to stop their little spat, or putting that commoner under her command part of your plan?" Longueville raised an eyebrow, questioning whatever he was up to. She personally detested the Count, and was more than aware of the repeated attempts to take one of their servants off their hands. Most likely to be their mistress, whether the poor girl liked it or not. The royal messenger was as such, not well liked by many at the Academy, but he had influence, and likely would prevent news of his desires from spreading.

Osmund merely grinned beneath his beard. There was a reason that he hired Longueville, beyond her appearance. The former noble was smart, she could figure it out. He had gained quite an appreciation for commoners, those without magic, over his long years of life. Nobody deserved being turned into toy, like Count Mott seemed to want. But seeing as Mott was the royal messenger, Osmund wouldn't be surprised if he would destroy any letter calling for his removal.

However, placing her in the Netherlord's service accomplished quite a few things. Simply by moving her contract, Mott would have to go through Marlexana. Seeing how that was going, well, it was for the best. Mott would lose, would have to shut up, and he would still likely get in trouble anyway, with Marlexana likely saying something to her superiors in the Horde. Which would be passed on to either Cardinal Mazarin or Princess Henrietta. Neither would take kindly to such actions.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Roiling water meet blazing flame, blue liquid meeting green fire in a shower of steam. Mott's wand swung erratically, whips of water and spears of ice launched at every angle. Marlexana's staff twitched lightly, fire erupting to block each incoming attack. The area around them was crowded with students, entrapped by the display before them, what appeared to many of them a contest of equal skill.

Guiche knew better. His father was a square class mage. Not only had he seen better, he had seen real close duels between opponents of equal skill. He had also seen games where one played with their foes like a cat playing with a mouse. Mott was out of his weight class, and it showed. While both combatants spells were indeed mighty, his future teacher was hardly putting much effort behind her strikes.

Three icicles slammed into the elves chest, but were stopped by an unknown force before they could puncture her robes. Three jade fireballs shot out from her palm, only for them to be devoured by a whip of water. Guchie could tell what the statement was. Not only were the only blows Mott could land were the ones she allowed, even if she did let something slip past, he simply couldn't hurt her.

Tabitha's eyes were firmly locked on the duel in front of her, rather than on the book in her hands. Mar's guard wasn't just simply good, it was vastly superior. It helped to have a spell of unknown origin able to block incoming attacks. Then again, every spell the warlock cast was unknown, though she had no doubt that some of her peers thought otherwise, merely as just oddly colored fire. Victory was without question, but she watched anyway. Knowledge, after all, was a dangerous weapon.

Kirche watched as the fight began to unfold. Each attack Mar made felt strange, almost wrong in it's nature. Fire magic at lhe end of the day, still relied on fire. Whatever she was using, it didn't feel like fire magic. It looked the part, with it's crackling and sparking, but it was like a disguise, hiding its real nature. Even worse was that she appeared to be constantly holding back. Just what type of monster had the school hired?

Montmorency's mouth was agap in shock. Mott was merely a lower triangle at best, but the elf was matching him without hardly any effort. Despite being a master of flames, at least for this engagement, she was hardly putting any effort into her spells. A stark contrast to the Count's furious waving of his wand. Regardless, the power behind each clash was immense, as if two titan's were vying for supremacy. All this, over a servant girl.

Marlexana countered another jet of water with a blast of fire. One would think after letting that attack through her guard, and letting him see exactly how little he accomplished. The hits barely registered on her demon armor, and he was seriously continuing? It was past time to end staff twirled, it's tip impacting the ground as she channeled raw felfire over the ground Mott tried to dodge the direct strike, only to end up surrounded by a ring of fire.

Mott attempted to dose the newly ignited blaze, only to be struck by own of the most dangerous of a warlock's spells. Fear. While this spell was known for it's inability to inflict direct damage, it was also known for showing it's target visions so horrifying they ran around in a panic. That's what the ring of flame was for, seeing as the spell left its victims survival instincts intact. It would be for the best, for all of them, if he didn't manage to run off. Even if she was pulling her punches, Chaos Bolt tended to have quite the impact. Dark green energy bubbled upwards, surging over Mar's feet. One hand raised to the heavens, as the frothing at her feet continued, the air warped, twisting and darkening. A fel green shifted, transforming into a skull. It was dragonesic, complete with frills and fangs. Lowering her hand, the spell arced forth, crashing into Mott with enough force to snap him out of his vision, and bringing him to his knees.

Chaos bolt, for all it's raw power, took plenty of time to cast, leaving her quite vulnerable. In a one on one fight, fear was enough to ensure that she could be able to get the cast off without issue. Mott's rasps echoed throughout the courtyard.

"What are you? What type of magic is that?" Mott was clearly in pain, but it wasn't life threatening, either. He would life, quite easily in fact. His pride? Well, that was likely a different story entirely.

"I'm a Netherlord of Council of the Black Harvest, simply put," Marlexana said, voice stern, still borderlining on harsh. "And for it's type? It's fel. Unknown to this world. Chaos, put in the most basic to understand sense."

"Now, if I see anything like what I've witnessed here today, I will inform the Warchief of this incident. And I don't think you want me to do that," Mar's voice was cold, some flames sparking back to life. "Now, please leave. I have some things I wish to accomplish, especially since two idiots thought that messing around with things labeled 'do not touch on pain of death or even worse', wasn't enough of a warning!"

There was a split devolved that day at the academy. One that thought Marlexana was going to have the coolest class ever, and one that thought she was way too powerful to be teaching classes.

That, and you shouldn't touch magical relics of immense power without knowing how to properly care for. Especially those used by an individual old enough to your own grandparents tells you too.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That's the end of that! Sorry this took so long, but some of you may have noticed I added a new story to my rotation. Louise is finally awake, repercussions have begun to accrue for hiring an elf, of all things, and we see a few of the people planning on taking Marlexana's class.

I really hope you all enjoyed, and I hope you have a happy Hallow's End!


	11. Class is in Session

Sharkdude5: Thank you.

Artyom-Dreizehn: No, Mar had thrown them out. All I can say is the next time someone tries that, well, things won't go well. Osmond should be the correct spelling. I apologize if I messed up. As far as I'm aware, the only cannon half-elves that are currently alive are Arator, son of Turalyon and Alleria Windrunner, and the twins Giramar and Galadin, sons of Rhonin and Vereesa Windrunner.

Fate: Yes. Based on what I know at the moment, it's a very good thing I have some cards in reserve.

Saurain: Mott is a character that is really easy to hate, and a lot of people have done his character more creatively than I have. I was planning on recycling an Illidari plot point for him that I hadn't used, but decided against it. And the point of the class is to teach students how to defend themselves from demons, little else.

Lord Anime: Yeah, a beta is probably needed for my works to catch stuff, but I don't have the time to find one. And don't worry about Louise, she will be playing a larger role as the story goes on.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Not only did you challange Count Mott over a servant, you managed to defeat him quite readily," Osmund listed off, almost in a lecturing tone, all the while Marlexana looked down at her feet. "I'm quite impressed. You've done more than exceeded my expectations." Mar's head whipped up, confusion showing on her face. The sudden change in mood and expression caught her off guard.

"I only have two requests. The first is that Mott's behavior reaches the Princess through proper channels, and two, well, make sure those artifacts of yours have better security measures," Osmund stated, a mischievous glint in his eye. Marlexana nodded, now relieved that she wasn't about to get sacked from her job before it even began.

"Naturally. I spend a good deal of yesterday building up wards and more, creative, measures. Even if somebody could get to them, only I would be able to open the final barrier," Marlexana's own grin was more than a little mischievous. It was sinister. After all, anyone who dared make another attempt at stealing them would be getting similar treatment to the demons on the Broken Shore when she acquired the Specter of Sargeras.

"Very well. You are dismissed. After all, you do have a class to go teach soon, don't you?" Osmund rubbed his beard between his fingers. The warlock smirked. Indeed, her first class was today. Sadly, it wasn't going to be much of a class, given how her Grimore shipment was late.

As such, she had been forced to change her plans. Improvisation was a skill that many desired, and it was one she had much practice with. Thankfully, she was more than prepared. She would simply go other what the class entailed, possibly show them a few of the demons they should expect to fight, and of course, the price of pride.

She was aware that some of her future students had observed the fight, and as far as she could tell, none of them picked up on her weakness. Simply put, there was a reason she tried not to use the Specter too often. The scar in her side, left by the Pit Lord Jagganoth, wasn't just a horrible burn, but a constant wound. In an attempt to prevent the lose of her life, she had been taken to a priest. That priest had botched the job, sealing some of the fire inside.

As such, when she used to much fel fire, the flames would return, a slow burn, attempting to eat it's way out. Thankfully, Marlexana was capable enough of a warlock to siphon off the worst of it's effects, but it didn't stop the pain. Siesta nearly freaked when she saw the angry scar for the first time. Bless her heart though, the girl had helped to the best of her ability.

"Thank you," Marlexana bowed slightly, out of respect, before pushing herself out of her chair. Finally she reached for her new headpiece, before sliding it onto her head. The new helmet had came straight out of the Nighthold itself. It was a creepy looking thing, with five eyes taking up most of the center of the helm, with spider like mandibles on it's underside. Two, short horn like structures jutted from the side, completing the mask.

"You aren't going to wear that while teaching, I hope," Osmund stated, keeping a straight face despite the headwear. He was almost interested in how the armor piece came into her possession. It didn't seem like something she made, far from it, but at the same time, it clearly had some degree of importance.

"I will not. Many of my students already likely fear me, to an extent. Showing up wearing a spider mask certainly wouldn't help things," Mar's voice was muffled by the piece of cloth. Thankfully, the piece of tier gear was easy enough to remove without issue. The warlock bowed slightly, and exited the room, despite her vision being completely obscured.

Osmund sighed. The whole scenario could have gone over better. Out of all things, he didn't think Mott would be foolish enough to attempt stealing a relic from the Warlock's grasp. He had nearly told her that such equipment needed to be kept in the vault, but she seemed to have everything well in hand. Too well might have been a possibility, but that was one he was willing to deal with.

Still, the arrival of the diplomatic convoy was a few days away. He was certain that they were going to arrive either later today or sometime tomorrow at the capital. Osmund had used quite a few contacts in Romania to gather what information he could on the High King and the Warchief. A future agreement of shorts looked promising, at the very least, though he could see many nobles being against any Azerothian influence.

It was easy to understand why, especially seeing that the Horde mostly didn't have a notable equivalent to nobility. Only the Blood Elves had anything similar in structure, and even then, some where unnerved that their current leader was a Regent Lord, to another Regent Lord. With the last in line being killed because he went insane and helped nearly destroy all of Azeroth. The older Regent Lord had gone missing without explanation, alongside a few other Horde and Alliance leaders.

Still, the real major concern he had was not even tied to the factions, but rather, the Legion. They would surely take advantage of chaos and discord of the current civil war in Albion. Part of the reason the Princess was marrying into Germania was to defend against a potential assault from the rebels, who were likely to win the war. It was a possibility that the Legion lend aid to the movement, bringing the conflict to an even swifter end.

An army reinforced by the Legion would easily be problematic for all Halkeginia, not just Tristain. Given that Romania actually desired to enter the fray as well meant there were even less defenders for the remainder of the landmass. It was possible that their union with Germania may not be enough to keep the nation safe. Which meant either beating around the bush and giving both factions something they would have desperate need of, or they could be up front about the protection they would need.

Regardless, Osmund would have to return to his work, sifting through the massive pile of letters, this time, by himself. His assistant had gone on break, and had yet to return. That was abnormal, at least for her. Whatever she was doing, he hoped she wasn't getting into to much trouble.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Kithkiris struggled against Louise's leg, trying to test it's flexibility and strength. A matter made harder seeing that the teenager hated her physical therapy sessions. Normally, she wouldn't be as worried if the person before her actually had some more muscle and body mass, but Louise was tiny for her age. She apparently did something involving her legs, given how much of a fuss she was able to put up with him.

Kithkiris herself was seriously questioning if this was worth the effort she was putting into this, but Louise was her patent, and thus, Louise would get the help she needed. Even if the pinkette liked it or not. Plus, Kithkiris was going to need to test if the mana potion she had given the teenager was having an effect on her magic. That was probably the biggest issue they faced. At least it would be easy enough to test.

Finally, the gnome finished, giving Louise back control of her legs, before popping out the ear plugs.

"I'm surprised. Your legs handled your month long coma better than I expected," Kithkiris grasped her staff, letting light flow through it, scanning her internal organs and other harder to check muscles. It was like she expected. While her vitals were good, Louise's muscles were simply underused and weakened.

"However, everything else is not. You're going to need work on strengthening everything else, without over exerting yourself," Kithkiris let out a sigh. Given how stubborn Louise had proven herself to be, getting her to accomplish that without going overboard and making things worse may become an issue. Still the gnome hadn't gotten a response, seeing as Louise was much too busy nursing her leg to pay attention her quite yet.

Kithkiris sighed at her fellow pinkette. She really didn't know how fortunate she was. Thankfully, whoever her caretaker was before all this, they had at least moved Louise's body around to prevent pressure sores, which could have been nasty business. And whatever healing they had given her, mixed with several doses of the Light, had prevented and undone the worst of the damage.

But there was a limit to what Kithkiris could achieve. She was a priest, and good healers were always in high demand. Her specialty, like most was healing stabbings, burns, or simply mending magical damage. Muscle regeneration using degraded muscles, not so much. Louise was simply going to need time to get better, and seeing as Louise's mother would be here, tomorrow, meant they didn't have much of it.

A light knock at the door caught her attention. It seemed as if Kirche had arrived. That was somewhat good, at least. Louise may have hated the girl, but the gnome found her to be a breath of fresh air. That, and her teasing could often prod the pinkette into action. Personally, Kithkiris didn't know whether she should be proud or angry that someone could push ones buttons in the such a manner. Clearly, there was something about their relationship that alluded her. Was it possible that Kirche felt bad for something she did in the past to Louise, or was this more of a rivalry?

"Come in," she responded cheerfully, and the door creaked open. Her guess was correct, it was Kirche, and she brought along her polar opposite and friend, Tabitha. Now there was a girl that unnerved the short pinkette. Hardly any visible emotions to speak of, her expression reminded her to the dolls she collected as a child. The bluenette likely had her own scars as well, Ones that she wasn't exactly qualified to deal with.

"Hey Louise," Kirche said, trying to engage the pinkette in non hostile conversation.

"What do you want, Kirche?" Louise snapped back, already bringing an end to the exercise. Kithkiris could only sigh. She just couldn't understand why Louise was so adamant to burn down all these bridges. Life was so much better if you had friends by your side, after all. Besides, it was far better to have friends, not enemies.

"Class is about to start," Tabitha stated, as if a matter of fact. Kithkiris nodded. It was time for Marlexana's first class, wasn't it? She had wished the elven warlock good luck, and to not get herself into trouble. If things got bad, the pink haired gnome could, and most certainly would, heal their wounds, if they were acquired. Thankfully, the demonologist had a reputation of being protective of her students, so something bad happening was unlikely.

"True, her class is starting today, isn't it," Kithkiris stated, trying to subtly hint Louise in that direction. She didn't know why, but the warlock had an interest in the teenager. Or more accurately, Louise's magic. She didn't know much about that situation, but she had heard something about explosions. But after hearing the older elf saying something about anti-magic, she was convinced it wasn't as clear cut or dry as her peers thought it was.

It did seem like Louise had picked up on her hint. While Marlexana showing up wasn't common, but the pink haired teen did seem to have some respect for the much older, red head elf. Or, Kithkiris was sure it was respect, but it could have been a lot of things. After all, the warlock was certainly impressed by the unique magic she displayed. Or was Louise it fear, and she was worried the elf would hold a grudge?

Still, she was slightly worried. Kirthkiris knew the class was around three flours up, and while walking around would certainly do Louise some good, going up and down that many stairs would be a bit much. The pink haired gnome frowned internally, she had put herself into quite the corner, hadn't she.

"I'll allow it. Marlexana shouldn't be going over much anyway today, seeing as it's the first day of class," Kithkiris sighed, closing her pink eyes. "However, you two are both responsible for making sure she gets back in one piece. Is this clear?"

In the first time since Kirche and Tabitha had meet the cheerful miniature Louise look-alike, they had never seen her show many emotions besides happiness and cheerfulness. However, seeing someone, who was even shorter than Louise, glare at them like a stern parent, was actually quite frightening.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Louise's legs trembled as she slowly forced her way up the stairs, silently cursing at her newfound weakness. She made this climb and higher multiple times a day! Yet, here she was, already winded by the second floor. Sweat dripped from her brow, as she pulled herself up another step. Louise's bones quacked and muscles ached, straining with what little strength she had remaining, landing on that last, final, step.

It was a small victory, she supposed, and a strenuous one. So this was why Kithkiris seemed relucent allowing her to leave. Her healer seemed to know her stuff, even though she didn't understand why she couldn't just use that staff of hers to heal her, rather than trying to bend Louise's arms and legs several different ways.

Thankfully, the room was the first on the right from the staircase. Louise inhaled, trying to calm her screaming muscles. It worked, a little, at least, as she pushed open the door, making her way over the closest seat. Louise had hoped that Kirche and Tabitha would keep their distance after that, but they sat down behind her. Normally, Louise would be annoyed and angry about their closeness, but her body was simply to exhausted to make much of a fuss.

She recognized a few around the room, Guiche's and Montmorency's blond hair sticking out clearly, alongside a few lower and upper classmen. It didn't take long for the whisper to reach her ears, but that was swiftly silenced as the door swung open again.

Marlexana entered the room, with the demon skull that tended to accompany her hovering over her right shoulder, with a strange, spider like mask carried under her left, causing a few to recoil back in fright. Under her right, was a very large, thick book, with a cover the shade of the night itself. Even gently placing it on the desk resulted in an audible thunk against the wood. Lastly, the mask was placed facing away from them, revealing that it to be less of a mask, and more of a full head piece.

"Thank you for coming here today," the elf bowed slightly, though whether it was in a mocking manner or not was beyond Louise's ability to disconcern. "I'm sure many you are curious to what this class will entail. Well, I do have some good news. This book isn't your textbook for this course." The sigh of relief couldn't be disguised. Louise couldn't blame them. It looked massive, easily weighing more than a few grams.

"This will be," a second book was placed on the table, next to the larger tome. It was still a monster in size, but it was half as thick. "Unfortunately, there was a bit of a mishap at the printers, so I can't hand out any books today, and without that, I can't assign you any research." This earned another sigh of relief, almost as loud as the last.

"However, it would be best to keep in mind that this class in one part theory, another practical. To be allowed to move on to the practical portion of this class, you must pass the theoretical," she continued, pausing to let the muttering die down. "Demon's are dangerous, even when properly bond. This rule is for your own safety, and mine as well. Not only that, there exists demons that are hard, if not impossible, to properly bind, even with powerful relics. Not even in groups can some be broken and controlled. As such, the only demons you will encounter is the practical portion of this class are the ones I know for a fact I can control well enough to not get any of you injured."

Louise had to admit, that was fairly reasonable. Of course, if there wasn't a risk, they wouldn't take it seriously, but her tone made it seem like she would only step in if something bad was about to happen. Otherwise, they would be on their own. Harsh, yet effective. Or, at least, possibly effective.

"Surely they can't be that dangerous!" one of the upperclassmen said, raising his hand. "Couldn't we just fry them with fire?" Marlexana's eyes seemed to close briefly, as she chuckled, before scowling slightly. Magical energy gathered, a swirling mass formed in front of the desk. Claws clacked against the stone floor, with Louise finding the strength to rear back, as had the rest of her classmates.

All four of it's legs were tipped with a single, bony claw, with the top half it's head having a similar bone structure. No visible eyes were placed on the beast, even with the lower half of its jaw and head, like most it's body, in crimson scales. Dark tendrils ran from the back it's head all the way down to the tip of it's tail. It's underside was similar, giving it the appearance of almost having a beard. Two, however, jutted back toward the front of the creature, with the ends splitting open. Finally, two bony spikes curved outwards and upwards out of it's shoulders.

No wonder it was called a demon. This monster could have only been ripped out of someone's nightmares. A depraved, madman's nightmares. It hissed, saliva dripping onto the floor, causing the stone to sizzle.

"This is a felhound. Now, are there any brave takers?" Marlexana's voice was stern, as she looked out over the class. "Anyone who succeeds will get extra credit." She encouraged, though Louise could tell it wasn't signscere. It was clear, at least, to her, that the elf didn't think they could win. Why?

"I will!" it was the same boy from before, who was the first to rather his courage, waving his wand as flame flickered around the tip. "Fireball!" Released, the sphere of orange flames tumbled towards it's target. At first, the demon didn't seem to move. At least, not until the flames came close.

In an instant, it's maw of razor sharp fangs opened, jaw dislocating as it widened further and further. Then, in an instant, that mouth full of teeth crunched down on the spell, devouring it whole. Louise was now leaning forward, as were many. Logic would dictate that the creature should be dead from allowing the spell get that close, let alone swallowing it.

Suddenly, the creature let about a blech, with a small amount of smoke escaping. Still, it didn't look any worse. Louise squinted her eyes. Was it her, or did it seem larger now?

"As you can now see, felhounds are capable of devouring magic," Marlexana stated, keeping her hands on her back. "Not only is this feat accomplished through their magical resistant gullet, but also by the tendrils on their back, which can drain magic and life energy from their victims. So, I'll ask again, any takers?" This time, Louise could feel the exhilaration, partially due to the danger of such a foe, the rest due to the glory of acquiring such a kill. Slaying a magic eating monstrosity, even in a controlled environment, would be quite the story. Even she was tempted, but Kithkiris warned her that using magic in her current state wouldn't be healthy, so she would have to settle for watching.

"I, Guiche the Bronze, shall bring this monster low!" the blonde declared as he arose, much to his girlfriend's annoyance. A single wave of his rose wand shock lose two petals, which fell to the ground. The moment they made contact with the stone, twin circles flashed into being, with two bronze valkyrie golems rising out of the floor. Each was armed with a long spear, each holding their position on the short steps of the tiered classroom. Even the elf seemed impressed, as Louise saw her eye raise slightly.

"As you can," was about as far as Guiche got, before the demon tired of his posturing, leaping forward. The first valkyrie was bolled over, pinned down by the beast's weight. Guiche, in panic, send his second forward, as two spikes shoot forth from its tendrils, jamming them into its gut. All the while, the valkyrie's head at turned into some sort of twisted chew toy, finally cracking off in a sadistic pop.

What was truly worrying was the spikes. Magic was slowly being pulled bronze construct, or, more specifically, the magic that turned stone to bronze. As the golem returned to it's original form, it's twin closed distance, striking at its skull. Magically enchanted bronze meet the thick, bony skull, with neither giving may.

Finally, the felhound retreated, leaping backwards as the spikes in it's tendrils went into hiding. It was a standoff, neither seeming to want to make a move. With a burst of sudden speed, the felhound shoot forward. Thrusting it's spear downward, the demon dodged around the strike, spike's bursting out as they landed straight in the valkyrie's gut.

It struggled, like a fly caught in a trap, but in the end, the magic draining spines were too much. The golem collapsed back into stone. Louise frowned though. Yes, it was bigger, visibly so. Not only was this creature capable of eating and draining magic, but doing so triggered rapid growth. That was, well, worrying, and that was putting it kindly. How could such a beast be slain?

Suddenly, the felhound spasmed, body twitching and lurching, without explanation. Gasps of horror went up around the room, as those nearby came close to falling out of their seats in fright. First, it's head split apart, becoming a monstrosity with two heads, rather than one. Slowly, but steadily, like a dividing cell, the demon split into two separate demons, each the size of the original.

"When a felhound absorbs enough magic, they are capable of splitting into two separate beings," with a wave of her hand, Marlexana sent both back into the Twisting Nether. "This is merely one demon out of the many different species that exist. None of them are to be underestimated, because each is more than capable of killing. If the pin is mightier than the sword, I must inform you that knowledge is mightier than any spell."

"The next class will be in a few days, not only because I will be busy with the political meeting that will be happening tomorrow, and to let the book issue get sorted out," now, Marlexana seemed to be in slightly better mood. "I will post a notice on the bulletin in the main hall when the next day of class will be, so be sure to check it daily. If nobody has any questions, class is dismissed."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Well, that's a wrap. Marlexana may seem a bit extreme in this chapter, but she was trying to drive the point of danger home. She is used to dealing with students who have little regard for safety when practicing their craft, so she'd naturally be annoyed by the attitude of some of her students. I decided this was a good way to convey that, without it hopefully being too much.

I hope you all enjoyed, and hope to see you next time!


	12. Transit

The sound of footfalls, clattering of horse's, wolfs, and other, more exotic animals echoed off the trees. Such a procession would have been impossible, until a few months ago. Now, after Azeroth's arrival, a caravan of of leaders, representatives from the Horde, Alliance, and Tristan, were traveling as one. Each brought their own guard, easly dozens of soldiers. The musketeers, Princess Hentrintia's royal guard rode alongside Stormwind's knights and several Orgrimmar riders.

Any bandit that would have attacked had to be foolish at best. Knights and their mounts were covered in the strongest plate, sun bouncing off the enchanted steel like armor, with the crest of Stormwind, the mighty and noble lion embrasioned on their shields. Blue trim complemented the armor, making for an impressive display, if only for a half dozen men.

The Horde had seven, though one was for the Warchief himself. The orc, unable to fit inside the carriages, more fit for humans, had taken to his own personal mount. Lacking the heavy armor of their alliance counterparts, they were covered in warpaint, fur somewhat matted. However, these wolves were enough to bear an orc for hours on end without rest. The massive breasts were larger than Halkgenia's, which had caused some surprise when leaving the capital.

Combined with additional forces from the manticore corps and Hentrintia's personal guard, the carvain numbered more than thirty guards. Even the Warchief was prepared for trouble, though he was wearing more ceremonial armor, that worn be the former Warchief Thrall. It certainly wasn't what he was used to, but it still offered plenty of protection. He'd even forsaken his typical blades for fairly mundane axes. He wasn't expecting much in the way of trouble, but his eyes continued to shift off the road. Most would consider him paranoid, but he was more that aware that an attack could come at any moment. It was simply a harsh truth, that an attack could come at any moment. He doubted any bandits or other brigands would make a move, but if they dared, he would be ready for it. Beneath him, his wolf let out a howl, which caused the horses to become spooked for a few seconds. Maltuk tapped his wolves sides lightly. As much as he would enjoy letting his mount run wild, he couldn't let it's primal desires scare off the horses. Such a delay was the last thing anyone wanted.

Hentrintia shuttered, looking out the window of her carriage as she heard the wolf's baleful howl. How the orcs managed to tame such beasts, let alone ride them, was something she couldn't understand. They didn't seem safe to have around, let alone to be used as mounts. Or maybe that was the point of it all. This was still somewhat confusing to her. Azeroth, Alliance, Horde, all of it, had been a source of much speculation and talk amongst the nobles. Beings that called themselves orcs, but did not hunger for human flesh and had their own language and culture, elves used magic initical to their human counterparts, the list went on.

"I do apologize for the Warchief declining to join us," Anduin spoke, returning Hentrintia's gaze to the one she was sharing her carriage with. High King of the Alliance, no less. He was likely in his early twenties, not much older than she was. His long blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail, coming down to his shoulders. The jacket he wore, a mixture of blue, white, and gold, likely made him uncomfortable in Tristain's heat. Over his right shoulder, he wore a royal blue sash, etched with gold, and on his right, a buckle, shaped like that of a lion and it's main. The crest of Stormwind.

It was true that he didn't exactly have an imposing figure, but Hentrintia could tell there was great wisdom behind the "boy king's" words. In a way, however, she couldn't deny he looked similar to Prince resemblance was mostly physical in nature, due to a combination of Andiun's hair, eyes, and figure.

"It is understandable," Hentrintia responded, before the silence returned in force. The Orc's frame simply wouldn't be able to fit into the cart, no matter how much they tried. Even if he hadn't brought along his armor and weapons. She wasn't even sure if these were what he actually used in combat, or if what the Warchief carried was ceremonial in nature. If it was ceremonial, it posed the question of what he actually wore into battle.

Azeroth had done more than cause the arrival of two new nations. It had caused a shift. Albion's rebellion seemed small, less concerning, now that two militaries, equipped and armed to the teeth with weapons never imagined. With the rebellion growing in threat and size, either or would make for powerful allies. Many nobles seem to prefer these farther off allies rather than the union that would bring them into Germania.

Hentrintia wasn't sure. As much as she'd much rather not marry the Germanian emperor, both nations were too far away to be of much use when it came to protecting Tristain. That, and most of those military assets some nobles were praising were tied down elsewhere, fighting a much larger threat. The very same threat responsible for an attack on Rominia's holy capital, which resulted in hundreds of casualties between soldier and civilian alike. The Legion clearly didn't distinguish it's targets. Of course, beyond the broad statement of the attacks and their occurrence, most outside of the highest reaches of each nation's government knew the exact nature of the attack.

This was to prevent chaos and widespread panic. Even though Hentrintia didn't agree, she could understand why. Despite the information coming from the Pope himself, she found herself finding it hard to believe. An army from beyond the stars that wished to annihilate all life, which already had a foothold that both nations were trying to beat back and seal off. It just seemed to make her problems quite small by comparison.

The meeting wasn't the only thing she was there for. The Academies new teacher had caused quite a fuss, and she would have to meet the individual herself. Normally, her Regent, Cardinal Mazarin, would handle such affairs, and while he would be present, he had entrusted the duty of negotiation onto her. The Pope had stated that both nations sought negotiations in good faith, and in equal terms. He also hoped that Halkeginia would prove to be a stabilizing influence on both Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms.

To that, Hentrentia was uncertain. She'd been given plenty of information on both factions, and their long, seeded conflict. Their disastrous loss on the Broken Shore had nearly brought them to blows once again, and she was worried with the Legion finally removed from the now shared planet, conflict would resume. Still, both leaders wanted peace, and that was a start. Hopefully, it would last, but Azeroth's history had shown that once this threat was defeated, and both didn't come to blows, it wouldn't be long before something else happened.

If it was possible to feel sympathy for a world, Hentrentia certainly felt bad for Azeroth. Even what was given showed conflict going back thousands of years, and likely even more. There used to be a single known continent, which had become four, with several islands dotting the sea between. And that was the result of the Legion's first major direct invasion.

The only real demand make by both factions was to avoid Northrend at all costs. She wasn't sure what the exact reason was, only that the Pope himself had advised that it was worth following. It was pretty clear something was there, something that either both factions didn't want to deal with, or something they wanted to keep secret at all costs. More likely both, if she had to guess. She knew part of the reason was because both nations and the Edon Blade refused to sell Sarnite, which was apparently a mineral found on the continent.

That's how she saw it, anyway, though it certainly didn't seem like a normal mineral if she had overheard what being around the ore caused. Insanity and death being the two most notable. She could understand why either faction had no desire to mine it, let alone use it. That wouldn't stop unsavory types from trying, but they would likely be caught and punished. After all, what business would want what amounted to cursed metal, especially when other, safer options arriving on the market.

That was another thing she was unsure of. Horde and Alliance armor and weapons were often made from more exotic materials, and were typically covered with enchantments to increase the performance of their wielder. Outfitting an army in such equipment would prove costly. Very costly. Both in materials or simply training those who never worked with it before on how to. She had heard something about Leystone exploding if one wasn't careful. How that could even occur was once again beyond her. She was no smith, but ore that exploded if not properly treated seemed foolish and unwise to use. But those native to the area were leystone was found had been forging it into weapons and armor for generations.

She'd much rather not bankrupt Tristain attempting to pay for would only be able to outfit at most half an army. It would take everything for that little, and trying to find an exchange for Azerothian currency and those of the Halkginian nations was already proving troublesome. Even without it, many high tier materials would be pricey, with older materials also being uncommon finds. That, and this wasn't for forge a military alliance. While such would be a boon to the small state, neither nation was in a position where they could lend free aid. Even if they could, Azeroth's fleet was mostly sea bond. For all Azeroth's advances, she was surprised by that fact. The few airships either had simply used mechanical or natural means to stay in the air.

It was efficient, given how Azeroth lacked airstones, the true core behind Halkginia's airships. That also meant Azeroth's flying city, Dalaran, was lifted up by raw magical energy, rather than anything else. That was a frightening concept, given how the ruling council of the city state wished to invite her and several other monarch's to the city. A special invitation levied by an Archmage known as Khadgar. Naturally, the Warchief and High King were invited as well to the event. It was supposed to be the day of the second assault on the Broken Shore. Hentrintia was unsure if this was meant to show off Azeroth's might against a single enemy, or it was to show just how dangerous the Legion was. That, and after happened at Rominia's capital, she was certain the Legion would make another attempt trying to kill the leaders that opposed them.

Of course, that same city was probably one of the most defended places one could be. It wouldn't be so close to a main invasion point if it didn't have defense's, likely magical in origin. It didn't help that Azeroth's magic was so vastly different from Halkginia's own. At best, there were a few similarities, but the fact no mage on Azeroth needs a wand or something similar to cast a spell. Yes, they could be used to empower magic, but were unneeded when if came down to active use. It was simply far too much for her to wrap her head around.

And that was simply one style, one of the many possibilities. Warlocks being the closest thing to mages in terms of magic itself. Shamans using the Brimiric Elements, excluding void, which was picked up by some priests. Even then, that seem vastly different from what Brimir had used, seeing as the void these shadow priests used often times drove their wielder mad. Druids could comand nature itself, and could shapeshift into a variety of wild animals. The Knights of the Ebon Blade used runes, magical glyphs that recharged and expelled energy that they collected and used.

There were likely more obscure arts as well. Enchanting, while useless in direct combat, allowed for the empowerment of armor, arms, and jewelry, and inscription used crushed herbs and pigments to write magical runes, empowering their reader or allowing them to modify their abilities slightly. Jewelcrafting used gemstones and ore, many of which naturally held or could easily store magical energy, to craft necklaces, rings, and trinkets. Even smithing, tailoring, and the art of working leather had a magical quality to it, as most armors had their own natural enchantments. And that wasn't including bags, which somehow were able to hold far more equipment, gold, and other items than they should have been. Effectivally, Azeroth had made a magical storage system using magical cloth.

Slowly, the rumbling of the carriage wheels against the road came to a stop. A small knock at the door was followed by a voice.

"Princess, we have arrived," it was Agnes, captain of her musketeers. The door pulled open, and she stepped outside.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Well, that went places. Not exactly my best, and it went a bit to much off the rails from what I had planned, but I wanted to give Hentrintia a kind of overwhelmed feel to her. Sorry if it was a bit on the late side, and with the next chapter, the real negotiations will begin, I hope to see you all for it.


	13. Omake: BfA

Warning, this contains information about Battle for Azeroth and how it will effect The Last Titan story. If you want to wait for when the plot of The Last Titan connects to Battle for Azeroth, then skip this chapter. This "Omake" will be considered cannon, and important for the sorry going forward. There will also be spoilers for events that have yet to come. I'll keep them as minor and vague as possible. This is a spoiler warning. You have been warned.

To all readers, I would like to apologize for the last chapter's sloppy writing.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Walls shook, sending dust and small debris flying through the air. Peddle's bounced off the orcs dark steel plate armor as he stepped into the harsh sunlight. Maltuk growled. He had expected an attack after Thadrasil had burned down, but to think Anduin would mobilize such an army, let alone as fast as he did. He had no idea who was behind the horrible attack, but too his knowledge it wasn't any member of the Horde. Yet, they were the only ones to blame. There may have been no formal declaration of war, but there didn't need to be. The death that sparked the conflict would be enough.

"Continue bombardment!" the Warchief shouted, as arrows and what few devastators and forsaken catapults they had left fired into the throng. They had been taken off guard, and with the detachment he sent to Silvermoon to fortify the city against the coming storm well out of range, reinforcements were unlikely. Retreat was his best option, but he was certain Anduin would leave a force at the sewer entrance. If they retreated underground, then it would just encourage the Alliance to find a way to drop the ruins on their heads, burying them alive.

No, their best bet was to break the morale of the Alliance assault force. Something easier said than done. Then there was, well, that. The walls shook again from the impact, as he looked at the Allaince's new war machine. It was, for all purpose, a siege tower. Heavy steel armor covered it's body, making what catapult fire they had nearly useless. They needed a cannon, something that could punch a hole through the thick plating. But that wasn't an option, because even if they could bring one onto the walls, it would be exposed to counter fire from both the trebuchet and the cannon.

It's presence alone was causing the defenders to break, the Alliance formation holding steady and nearly at the gates. Saurfang was doing what he could, but he saw the Orc go down, three arrows sticking from his chest. Something needed to be done.

It was a bellow. A primal, monstrous thing, full of rage and promising vengeance. It echoed across the fields of battle, nearly drown out by the sounds of war, the screams of the wounded and the dying. Then, Maltuk charged, leaping from the ramparts, landing in a clash of steel against the roof of the siege tower. In an instant, both his war blades shattered through the trebuchet, before turning to dispatch both the startled human guards with his freshly forged blades.

Next, it was the human and dwarf beneath him that faced his fury, as he hurled one of the blade into the mass of gears bellow. The resulting blast of unknown origin spat the blade back out, allowing the Warchief to grab the weapon out of the air.

Already, the structure of the seige tower was breaking apart, Maltuk making his way down carefully, but swiftly, avoiding explosions all the way down. Then he leaped, a thunderous war cry leaving his lips, aiming himself at four Alliance soldiers. Between their shock and fear, there was barely a moment to raise their weapons to defend themselves.

Blade bit through armor, through flesh, through bone. All four slumped over, dead, and Maltuk did the first thing that came to mind.

"FOR THE HORDE!" the warcry echoed across the field, resulting in stillness, if only for a moment. That silence was broken by the response. Roars, bellows, screams all responded in kind, and the Horde charged. No longer were they on the defensive, trying to hold back the tide. No longer were they on the verge of breaking. Their strength was restored, as was their morale.

The sudden loss of their siege tower, and the suddenness of the Horde counter attack had forced the Alliance onto the defensive. Without the siege tower dominating the artialary, the Horde was free to return fire into the Alliance forces, boulders punching holes into their lines. Lightning flashed among troops, as the earth shattered beneath their feet.

Saurfang's own bellow was nearly enough to rival the Warchief's own, as the aging orc grabbed a broken battle standard before charging back into the fray. The Alliance's front line crumpled, unable to withstand the new counter attack.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Anduin watched as the siege tower approached the walls of the Undercity. The Warchief was there, he knew it. He may not have wanted war, but Thardrasal's destruction had made it necessary. A disaster on par, if not surpassing the Bombing of Theramore had happened. There was evidence on the scene, a few scraps of a Horde banner and a few pieces of armor, clearly of Horde make. How such survived the blaze didn't make sense. Fires so hot that they still burned, more than enough to turn a body, skeleton and all into ash, but spared some cloth and leather?

Maltuk was many things, stubborn and proud most of all, but he cared for his people. Attacking Teldrassil would do nothing to help him, and he certainly wouldn't send his own on a suicide mission. There then came the question of what. What would gain benefit and who would cause such a disaster? He had his own theories, and made a personal request of both several members of the SI:7 and the Uncrowned. To continue their shadow war against Reconquesta, the original masterminds of the Albion Rebellion. Even if it meant going rouge. And if they found the one behind it, turn it in both Albion and Tristain's monarchs. If only so the two of them could knock both of them silly for this.

It was a hunch, but Anduin was certain it was correct. Maltuk wouldn't let it happen, nor did he want a war. That much was certain. If he could capture him, and keep him alive long enough, perhaps this could be solved without much further bloodshed. Anduin had no illusions of the difficulty of this task, but he had the Warchief's back to the wall. What more was there he could…

The siege tower rocked with a tremendous blast, followed by an echoing warcry only a few seconds later.

"FOR THE HORDE!" It was a sound like lightning, and just like it's natural counterpart, the thunder came after. Anduin heard it before he saw it. A tide of green, blue, rotting flesh, and even fur.

"Push forward!" Anduin shouted, pointing his father's sword toward the enemy . Reserves moved to reinforce the front line, but it was already to late. The front line shattered, overwhelmed by the sudden offensive. Each line of defense was overrun, as the Horde regained momentum. reinforcements meet renewed vigor and for a time, a line was drawn. That line properly shattered, descending into a chaotic melee.

Anduin swung the blade in his hand left and right, striking at any Horde attacker that tried to challenge him. His strikes were successful, drawing blood and forcing the enemy back. But that was only for a time. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, but by then, it was already to late. The shaft of the axe collided with Anduin's skull, and was knocked down, helmet sent flying.

"High King!" a Draenei to his right shouted as he battered away the attacker, only to fall to a bolt of crackling lightning. Anduin knew he couldn't stay were he was as he scrambled to his feet. He barely had any time to react, as he was charged by a troll with a wooden face mask and massive shield, with two spikes made for goring.

Anduin's first swing brough the charge to a halt. The second staggered him. The third brought him to his knees. The fourth ended it all. Calling on the Light in a way Anduin never had before, he brought his sword down against the nearly prone troll. Dirt and dust exploded outward, obscuring his sight.

When it settled, everything was in ruins. Soldiers groaned around him, dying from their wounds. Arrows littered the dirt. The only thing he could do was pry.

And the Light answered. The moment the blade in his hand embedded itself into the dirt, pure energy crackled in the heavens above. Raising his hand, a pure bolt of holy energy struck down to meet it. Light flowed around Anduin, creating a bubble between both armies, protecting his soldiers from further harm. And then, the light descended. It enveloped, it soothed, it healed. Slowly, each soldier began to raise, grasping the weapons that had lain close to where they fell.

Anduin ended the spell, a massive globe of healing aura, which hadn't taxed him at all, in fact, he felt stronger than ever.

"Stand as one!" Anduin shouted, pulling his father's sword from the dirt, and pointing it toward the enemy force. "FOR THE ALLIANCE!"

Both armies surged forward, ready to return to the fray.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Well, there's the first Omake. Don't worry, The Last Titan will be getting a chapter after this, seeing as this isn't a formal chapter.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you next time!


	14. Negotiations

Once again, I would like to apologize for the terrible spelling mistakes last chapter.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana smiled slightly as the a convoy rode up to the front of the school. A thirty strong regiment of guards were on either horseback or wolf back, and a few of the other guards swooped down from the sky. Alongside several of the Princesses personal bodyguard, the Musketeers, there had been a few from the Griffon Knight Corps. Around a half dozen of these fliers were present, including their leader, an individual named Viscount Wardes.

By human standards, he would be considered handsome, with strong features and gray hair that made him look far older than he actually was, his hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a bit of a rugged charm to him, and she wouldn't be to surprised if he was a bit of a ladies man, while at the same time, remaining quite chivalrous.

Then there was Maltuk, the orc wearing ceremonial armor belonging to that of Warchief Blackhand, and was later passed down to Warchief Thrall. Of course, the orc prefered his own armor, but he used the dark plate as a form of ceremony. Anduin was next, wearing a suit of white, blue, and gold. Without a doubt it was impressive, a work of masterful craftsmanship. As a fellow tailor, she had to admit the Alliance had outdone themselves. Golden trimming fused seamlessly into the cloth, decorations placed and somehow didn't look any less comfortable.

And them their was the Princess herself. The first thing she noticed wasn't the dress, but rather, her purple hair. She shouldn't be that surprised, seeing as blue and even pink coloring was a thing. She wouldn't be surprised if she saw Night Elf green somewhere. Then came the dress itself. It was white, something simple. It didn't carry an emblem of a nation, or a mark of importance, and that was in and of itself a statement. It looked and appeared as if it was a wedding dress, or rather, a purity dress. A symbol of how pure and innocent she was.

The last was Agnes, the captain of the Princesses all female personal guard. Again, she could notice the basic theme. Strangely, however, Agnes's personal appearance seemed to run opposite of that. Her blonde hair was short, very short. The human concept of tomboy was the first thing that came to mind. Her gaze was quite hard, and Marlexana was certain she already didn't like Anduin, probably for what amounted to obvious reasons. Her uniform was identical to her fellows. Flintlock pistol and blade with easy grasping range, as to be pulled swiftly from their holster and sheath, respectively, and a much larger rifle on her back.

"Mar!" a cheery voice greeted her, taking her eyes away from what was in front of her and toward Maltuk. She saw the other guards had dismounted as well, wolves being seperated from the horses, for the sake and sanity of everyone involved.

"Warchief," she bowed slightly, only for the large orc to chuckle. As much as the orc didn't like formality between friends, she would still show him respect.

"It is good to see you again, old friend. We must stop only meeting as a matter of business, though I do understand that your schedule has become busier than ever before," Maltuk spook, with the underlying threat of if she wasn't getting enough sleep he would knock her out to make sure she got it. She was adapting, to say the least. Hopping back between Dalarn and Tristan had left her little time to sleep, but she managed.

Anduin gave her a curt nod, which she returned with another slight bow. The High King actually respect from her. Rational, level headed, and certainly more forgiving than many, Anduin stood with unblemished ideals and will, despite the death of his father. He had big shoes to fill, but he seemed to be willing to fill them in his own way. He still mourned of course, that much was clear. The Alliance had lost a great king that day, just as the Horde lost a great warchief.

"So this is the new teacher of the Tristain Academy of Magic," a neutral voice spoke, as Marlexana turned. Maltuk left, to prepare for the event, likely finish getting the meeting tent set up. The first thing that greeted her was bright pink hair. Louise bright pink. She hadn't seen the individual during the landing or as part of the guard regiment.

The warlock knew who this individual was, without a doubt. But that didn't explain her arrival, If she had been willing to look away, she would have noticed the giant wyvern, on Halkegenia, known as a manticore, being taken to the familiar stables. But she didn't. This woman's eyes stared into her very soul, a challenge, a class of wills.

Mar didn't need to reach out and feel the magic around her. Though they weren't separated by much, she could feel the raw magical power she possessed. It was like a windstorm, so mighty, so powerful, as if threatening to snuff her out. She was disciplined, forged, almost, like steel that refused to break.

So, Halkeginia had its own monsters as well. Ones who could stand and make armies tremble. One who could best untold thousands of lesser fighters and masters of their craft.

If the hair didn't give it away, the magical pressure sure did. This was Louise's mother. Ultimately, she decided to cut this little challenge off, before this turned to one of those 'which one of us is stronger' things.

"Welcome, Duchess Valliere. I wasn't expecting you to arrive," Mar said, trying to sound polite as possible. No reaction, not even surprise. Maybe a twinge of disappointment, but that was gone faster than Mar could react, as if a part of her imagination.

"So, you've meet my daughter," she spoke, confirming her identity, as if stating how the warlock knew her name.

"I have," Marlexana merely confirmed, nodding her head. Louise was stubborn, likely a result of feeling like she had something to prove.

"Walk with me," Karen said, less of an option and more of an order. "There are things I'd wish to discuss with you."

"Very well," Marlexana said. "Lead the way."

Meanwhile, across the field, Wardes blinked, clearly confused about what just happened. He knew Karen well, with her being his mentor, and never had seen her being willing to engage anyone in what would amount to a petty and one sided duel.

"They looked like they were about to start fighting each other," Henrietta spoke, clearly aware of what that actually meant. It puzzled her, as to why someone who seemed to support the academy's decision wished to fight their new teacher.

"That would be terrible," Wardes, Maltuk, and Cardinal Metzen said at the same time, each one for a different reason.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"So that is what I sensed before arriving. Most impressive," Karen stated, keeping an eye on the elf's facial features.

"No, the fact you could detect is what's impressive," the elf's eyes seemed to widen briefly in shock, before returning to a more neutral expression. "But safety must come first, and and this spell grants it."

"I understand that sometimes demons can appear naturally, and that is something you wish to prevent, but how does a spell that only allows certain people to summon an actual demon act as a safety measure?" the pinkete questioned, as if to draw more information from the elf.

"You know how children can be sometimes. They watch someone do something, and they try to replicate it, whether or not it's a good idea," the elf explained, almost like she'd seen the behavior before. Her first guess was correct. This wasn't the elf's first time teaching. In fact, it was almost like she'd realize many students would get in over their heads.

"You expect they to try and summon demons, just to see if they can," she stated, once again observing their reactions. The elf nodded.

"Correct. And personal, I am quite torn on the matter," Marlexana said, though Karen's face remained blank, she was almost curious what was meant. "On one hand, they are listening to their elder and the one with more experiness, but at the same time, it means they lack as much curiosity, even if it means sacrificing good sense. Hopefully, their failures will discourage most, meaning I can ideally step in and deal with the rest."

"I'd imagine such a spell would weaken foreach exception to it," Karen stated, expecting this spell to have some degree of weakness or flaw.

"Someone with sufficient power can brute force a summon through the barrier, and each exemption does weaken it, but I'm the only exception and the only warlock in the area. Breaking the spell would be no easy task," she stated, a small hint of pride in her voice. Karen had to admit, she took this job very seriously, if she was willing to go to such lengths.

"And what of my daughter?" for the first time, Marlexana could feel emotion, if only a twinge of fear or even concern.

"I assume you got the letter from the Academy?" she asked first, testing Karen's reaction. The woman nodded her face like a mask, though underneath it one would find the natural concern of a parent. In this case, honest would be more than the best policy. "For the most part she seems well. She's awake and stubbornly trying to get back all the strength in her legs. I don't interact with her that much, so you may want to talk to the priestess they brought in."

"So it would be to much to ask for her to be returned home," again, this wasn't a question, but a statement. Marlexana sighed. She was worried about that. On one hand, Louise needed rest, and home would be a good place for it. But on the other, she knew the moment Louise left, she wouldn't be coming back.

"That isn't up for me to decide if she's well enough to travel, but even if she was, I'd personally prefer it if she stayed," Marlexana spook, seemingly causing Karen to stop in her tracks.

"Explain," it was a single word, a command, and a veiled threat. She didn't need to change her tone, but Marlexana knew exactly how much hurt she was in for if she didn't'.

"Put simply, Sin'dorei can see magic, feel it. The first time we meet, Louise introduced one of her explosion spells to my face. One of my spells kept me from harm, however, but I noticed two things," Marlexana explained swiftly "First was the build up of a type of magic I haven't seen on Azeroth or Halkegenia thus far, and that her explosion somehow, impossibly, disabled my magical defenses."

"So, you think she has magic," Karin asked, a slight tinge of shook in her voice, as if she hadn't expected anyone to say that.

"I don't think so. I know so. It's just I have no idea what it is," Marlexana admitted. Of course, she had theories, but they were getting to the point of being so far fetched that they almost made sense. But she wasn't going to get answers with Louise on the other side of the country. "And that was the first reason." She said quite quickly, only now just remembering.

"Two of my students have been researching a way for Louise to remain at the Academy. I don't know what exactly that may entail, but please, go easy on them," Marlexana finished respectfully.

Karin was still caught off guard that this elf thought her daughter actually could use magic. After so many years of nothing, it would bring joy to her heart if Louise could learn magic. It wasn't exactly what she had expected. But the warlock admitted to not knowing what magic she possessed, stating that it couldn't be found on Azeroth, whose magic some considered heretical, and Halkeginia. But as she put it, Louise had done something that a master of her own field considered impossible.

"I will think about it," Karin said finally. "Now leave. I would wish to speak with my daughter. Alone." Marlexana nodded. That was something she understood, perfectly well. Family matters would always remain family matters.

The elf turned and left, heading back the way she came. This world had some monsters, indeed.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Where is the elf?" one of the nobles nearly shouted from across the table. Maltuk desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but resisted the urge. She did have a name or a title, if they couldn't remember that.

"She is currently escorting Duchess Valliere to her daughters quarters," Viscount Wardes stated to the right of the cardenal. More than a few nobles seemed to pale at the mention of her name.

"We'll wait," the one who first issue the complaint said, quieter this time. Maltuk resisted laughing. If that didn't confirm the spike of power he felt, that he didn't know what did. Henrietta and Anduin missed it entirely, but he chalked that up to simple inexperience. Both, thankfully, hadn't spent most of their adult life slaying world ending threats, though the boy was going to likely start getting experience in that department soon enough.

Again, the two rulers seemly appeared confused by how her name could bring someone into line so swiftly. At least Henrietta had some degree of background information on what might be causing this, because it simply could not be power alone.

"I apologize for the wait," Marlexana said, slipping into the large tent around the meeting area. She bowed slightly, before taking her seat between Maltuk and Anduin.

"I thank you all for coming," Henrietta started, with all three of them bowing slightly in their seats. "With the Founder's blessings, I hope this becomes a long and prosperous friendship." A few nobles around the table nodded in agreement, and did the High King and Warchief. Marlexana once again bowed.

"If I may speak first?" Maltuk asked, earning a nod from Henrietta. "Thank you. If the Horde desires anything besides friendship, it would be both food and lumber. In exchange we can offer copper, as well as pelts from exotic animals, and if need be, simple gold. If it provides an increase in production, I can send some druids that serve the Horde to aid any earth mages that may be involved, if that is required."

Maltuk observed their reactions carefully. Copper caught the attention of a few but mostly it was the exotic pelts or simple gold that caught their attention.

"Do you feel our earth mages are inadequate?" one of the nobles asked, causing a bit of muttering. So their remained many who thought even a trade agreement was beyond them.

"Hardly," the orc chuckled, revealing his toothy jaw. "Such collaboration would lead to an increase in yield, giving more of it to sell or save." Cardinal Matzin had to avoid smiling. How clever, appealing to their greed and self interest.

"The Alliance would also like a similar agreement. Our farmlands may be able to produce enough food for our people, but we have also trading with the Horde. As such, our fields fertility has become more and more taxed, and needs time to recover," Anduin spoke, adding to the conversation. "In exchange we can pay, but the Council of Three Hammers has also said they would be willing to send over a few smiths to build and operate a forge for high quality tools and weapons."

That caught the attention of a few nobles as well, and provided the rumors of dwarven smithing were more than just that, then being able to forge better equipment would only help them in the long run. Of course, that also would mean they had to own an estate with a large source of iron ore to benefit.

Of course, they could simply set up one on one agreements, so long as the Henrietta agreed. And right now, it would be hard not to. The potential income would provide enough money that outfitting the army and navy with better armor and weapons. Surely, both factions would be willing to sell such for high enough price, or at the very least, pass along resources and even plans.

"That leaves setting up at the very least an exchange rate for future reference," another noble stated. More than a few nodded their heads in agreement with the man.

"Eighteen of our gold per bushel?" Maltuk asked, causing a few months to drop. Wheat wasn't expensive with Tristain's borders, and even with Azeroth gold being worth less, simply due to the state of its market, that was a bit much. It was understood both factions were in an economic boom time, but enough they were able to pay that much was a bit shocking. Even with the exchange rate that Romania stated, that was nearly twice what anyone else payed.

It was almost to much, in a sense. Sure, the newfound funds would be useful, but to much too quickly, would cause prices to inflate, which would ultimately cause things to spiral out of control. If it caused prices to rise, it would likely make it so that peasants couldn't afford any food at all. A reality that was simply counter intuitive to anyone's wishes. In the long run, it simply wouldn't do.

"In good faith I don't think we could allow any more than nine," Henrietta spoke, as a few nobles winced. That was still more than internal purchases, but not a whole lot. They could understand the reasoning. They couldn't let the influx of gold unbalance their economic base.

"Twelve," the orc immediately countered. Such a price tag was again a bit shocking. Anduin almost had to sigh. It looked like one of these was going to start again.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ms. Longvillue made her way through the forest, hand gripping her wand tightly. It was some type of trap, that much she was aware of. After all, the individual that sent the letter knew her name, and knew exactly where to find her. Blackmail wasn't something she was a stranger too, but damn it, she'd thought her tracks were better covered than this.

"The infamous Fouquet. We meet at last," a shadow slipped down from a tree in front of her. Her form was thin, covered head to toe in enchanted leather. "The Uncrowned have a job for you. One much better for you, and your sister."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Well, that's going to be it for this chapter. Not as much as I'd like, but this will be a multi-chapter affair. Again. Things are beginning to heat up, and the Uncrowned are willing to make an offer Fouquet can't refuse.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to she everyone for the next chapter.


	15. Negotiations Part 2

It's review answering time!

Sharkdude: Thank you!

Captain: Well, it's quite a good offer, with much better benefits, and not having to worry about someone being used as a hostage against you.

Shinjutree: Sorry to hear that. This story has a lot of characters.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ms. Longuieve, the now revealed Fouquet, nearly went for her wand by instinct alone. This person, whoever they may be, somehow knew her identity. More importantly, they knew of her sister, and of her benefactors.

One, that might be a coincidence. But both? And an unknown organization as well? Something clearly wasn't right.

"Let's hear it," she finally said, keeping an eye out for any possible guards. She didn't trust this situation, no one bit. Of course, just using magic was out of the question. Her golem's could attract attention due to their size, even as far into the forest as they were. That was assuming the individual would let her cast a spell, as the individual carried two small flintlocke's, each one strapped to their legs.

"It's simple, really. You come work for us, giving the Uncrowned everything you know about Reconquista, it's members, and it's goals," the figure spoke, eyeing Fouquet with just as much cation. Cornered rats were almost the most dangerous rats, after all. "In exchange, we'll find a way to bring your sister, and the orphans she cares for, to Stormwind itself. Not only will she be safe from Reconquestia's grip, she doesn't have to worry about her, heritage."

Fouquet's face tried to remain as still as possible. They knew. How did they know? They called her bluff before she could make it. How did they know Tiffinia was part elf?

"It wasn't that hard. Wearing a sun bonnet at all times, even indoors?" the individual's chuckling was lighter than she had expected. "As justified as your pariona is, it was also as much of a dead giveaway."

Fouquet sighed. They knew everything. Not just this one person. Likely, most of the higher ups of this Uncrowned. This move was planned out. Was Reconquista even aware that there was a new player in the game?

"And what if I refuse?" Fouquet asked, staring upward, teeth clenched. That was the golden question here. What if she refused? If they were telling the truth, she couldn't, not really. She knew nothing of the Alliance capital, but knew of the two elven races in its ranks. Tiffinia wouldn't stick out as much, nor would she have to worry about her life if a gust of wind stole away with her hat.

"That it would be a shame, and I'd bit you farwell," the figure answered calmly, almost with a shrug. Fouquet mask slipped a little, in shock. She was expecting blackmail, like with Reconquestia, not something like this.

"Why so surprised? We are trying to give you an employment opportunity, with benefits to both parties, not create a begrudging servent," this time, the figure actually shrugged, "But I still don't see the second option ending well. Talk to your handler now, and Reconquesta may take it as a sign you are compromised. Keep at a secret, and they might find out later, and assume you are an active spy. And besides, do you really expect them to hold their end of the bargen?"

Fouquet gritted her teeth. The stranger wasn't wrong. On any of their counts. The fact they knew she had a handler as well was a bit alarming, but they didn't choose to reveal his identity. Did they not know? Or did they only have suppisions yet to be proven?

"And how do you know you can trust me?" that was another golden question. Why trust a thief? Let alone a thief working for the enemy.

"Because we have something Reconquestia doesn't," the figure smiled behind their face mask. "Honor amongst thieves." They stared at each other for a few moments, before they both burst out laughing. Honor amongst thieves? A terrible saying, and a terrible joke. The agent managed to regain her composure first, but the air had lost its edge.

"In a week and a halves time, The Academy of Magic will be taking a field trip to Dalaran. I'm sure you'll have no time getting Osmund to give you some time off to enjoy the event. Look for the shop with the raven, and show the store owner this badge. They will show you the path. Come with a letter that will convince your sister to come with the agents we send, and we will get her to Stormwind safely," the figure slipped down from the tree, landing on the forest floor without making a single sound, placing a small badge with the face of a raven into the palm of Fouquet's hand. Before she could respond, they were surrounded by shadow, and when it faded, nobody was there. Leaving Fouquet alone in the forest, with the only proof of the stranger's presence being the badge in her hand.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A continent away, a pair of eyes opened.

"I didn't see you come in, Spymaster," a feminine voice stated the obvious, looking at the leader of SI:7.

"I didn't want to interrupt you, but I have a package for you, directly from the Uncrowned," Mathas spoke, placing down the package of secret, classified notes. "We intercepted Reconquista transmission. The information is a bit, alarming, to say the least."

Eyebrows scrunched together. If Mathas was concerned, that was rarely positive sign. The seal was removed, and information spread across the table. Information, commonly known to high ranking members of the Uncrowned about how Reconquista planned to drive a wedge between Tristan and Germainia laid about. What was concerning? This plot was already known, and the Uncrowned were already taken steps to stop it.

Ultimately, eyes gazed over the loop sheet. As small gasp was heard.

"They canceled the retterval of the letter? No, they canceled trying to drive in that wedge," that was alarming. "Are we sure they don't know their communications have been compromised?"

"If they know, they haven't acted on it, or have otherwise tipped their hand," Shaw said, also crossing his arms. "The hit on Prince Wales however remains the same. But at the same time, Reconquesta is pulling out funding." That was the worrying bit. Reconquista's known goals appeared to be the standard, world domination and control. The war may have well been close to over, by why cut funding for their rebel group?

"So, they still plan to use the same plant for the original mission, then," that was good. After all, they already had a suspect and if Fouquet did turn, which she would, they would know for certain. "I will inform the Uncrowned to keep an eye on the spepect and his letters. Anything that sounds like it pertains to Fouquet or is directly about Fouquet needs to be destroyed, or at least, passed off as nothing of importance."

"That is more aggressive than I would advise," Shaw nodded, "But I agree. The key to that thief's loyalty is her sister. If Reconquestia makes a move, it would ruin any attempt at an extraction, and she certainly would not take kindly to having her sister being kidnapped." He already had a team standing guard. Mostly humans, for they had a better chance to remaining undetected, and two night elves, if simply to make the sheltered girl feel more welcome.

Technically, Fouquet would be covering as working for the SI:7, rather than for the Uncrowned directly. It was a common practice by this point for Uncrowned agents to slip into their respective fractions intelligence agencies. And it kept her close at hand, with her sister, until it became time for a mission. Secondly, Anduin didn't trust Albion's rebels. Even if he wasn't aware of the scope of the individuals pulling the strings, the figurehead of the movement already made things quite clear. The only reason he might put off the invasion of Tristan would be because he'd want to deal with the non-humans of Azeroth first.

The man known as Crowell was insane. Neither the Uncrowned or the SI:7 had uncovered much on his past, beyond the fact he'd used to be a priest at a small church. They already knew that he was making plans to attack the eastern kingdoms, but such attempts were paltry at best. Even if Reconquista was giving information to the rebels, they would have to strike at a high altitude location, leaving only two suitable locations. Blackrock Mountain, a massive, still active volcano that had many hostile beasts, not to mention the volcano was still spewing lava, and the home of the dwarves, which was extremely heavily defended, and could be reinforced with ease. If it wasn't for the fact Mathas was certain the man was using himself as bait, he would have sent in the assassin's. Either the ones behind Crowell wanted a mytr, or he himself sought that fate. It wasn't worth sending good men and women to spring an obvious trap and die anyway.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana finally arrived after what appeared to be the end exchange rate talk, entering the tent once she had heard a lull in the conversation.

"I apologize," she stepped into the tent with a slight bow, "but Dutchess Valliere requested that I escort her to her daughter." Any complaint seemed to die away. She sat down in her seat between the Warchief and High King, symbolizing her roll.

"We were just discussing why it might be beneficial if the Illidari were to lend aid to Musketeers in defending the Princess," Cardinal Metzen said, informing the late Netherlord of the current topic of discussion. Yes, this discussion. It was quite hard to justify having foreign assets defending the leader of a nation.

"The first thing you must understand is that demon's don't fight fair. Crushing a foe with brute for is just as valid of an option assassinating important figure heads or simply leaving the opposition to fight amongst itself," Marlexana spoke, laying everything on the table. "The type of demon that is used in the later two most importantly are the Nathrezim. They've mastered both magic and combat, and are capable of using illusions or even shapeshifting to disguise themselves. Generally, as a rule, the fastest and easiest way to detect one's presence is by using the sight possessed by a Demon Hunter."

That caused some uproar, as she expected. This is was exactly what the Nathrezim were good at. Discord, paranoia, distrust. These were the seeds planted, so that when the time came, what could stand a chance united would fall divided.

"And thank you for the display of what Nathrezim are good at," she said, putting an end to the bickering. She was here for more important things. "Like I've said, it's the fastest and most practical. Romania has been using water mages to check for blood flow, which has proven effective at seeing through illusions, but it's far more time consuming."

"I see. Thank you for your testimony," Cardenal Metzen nodded. She had a point, he supposed, but he wasn't entirely willing to put the Princess's safety in foreign hands. No matter how trustworthy those hands seemed.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask for military aid," a new voice said. Marlexana's eyes flickered over to the man briefly. He looked like Guchie, though older and taller, with much more muscle than her student. He was staring over a clump of battle plans rather intently. Cardenal Metzen frowned. General Germont was aware of the threat posed by the Albion Rebel movement. Even if they asked, Tristan would be unable to send aid.

"The orders have the strength and means to take key parts of the island and complete all mission objectives. Combine our forces with the Romanian reinforcements, it will be more than sufficient," the Warchief stated, though she swore he had added "we finally have aerial superiority." under his breath.

"Enough to destroy the tomb entirely, rather than infiltration to shut off each portal?" the General questioned, looking up from the report. She looked at the WarChief's face. Was he seriously contemplating this?

"I would advise against such an action, Warchief," Marlexana's voice was slightly panicked. "The tomb has survived being raised and sunk to and from the ocean two times that we know of, and has likely been further reinforced. Even if the destroying the tomb did work, and cut off both portals, we have no idea were the Avatar of Sargeras lays. Or if such an assault had the means of breaking its chains. Or worse, waking it up, provided the Legion hasn't already done so."

That seemed to take a few people off guard. On it's own, the Avatar of Sargeras was a world ending threat. Not that it was any different from what amounted to the norm on Azeroth, an awakened avatar was the one of the last things anyone wanted. It had taken one of the most powerful mages in the world to actually beat the thing, and given how history turned out, some might argue it lost on purpose.

Though part of it was her own show of fear. Part of its impact was just from their belief that elves were monsters, beings with no fear that could slaughter endlessly. Even if they knew it wasn't true for Azeroth's own elves, it didn't stop their subconscious. An elf being afraid of something, a race they were raised to fear being afraid. It did a lot.

And truly, it wasn't the avatar she feared. Sure, it would take time, but a combined effort would be able to put it down so it could be resealed. It was the fact the avatar was hardly more than a sliver of Sargeras's raw might. Nothing could stand against the dark titan. It took one of the greatest mortal warriors to wound him once. Killing him would be beyond impossible, as things stood.

That, and the fact the island was somehow able to magically rise from the ocean depths, somehow preserved against the pressure and aquatic ecosystem. Then again, given what slept within, no living animal would likely dare to get close.

"I'm assuming there is a plan in place encase of a counter attack?" to that, the Warchief merely grinned.

"A few, most of which will be implemented on the Order's approach, if need be. Their launched point is Dalarn," It was Anduin who spoke up this time, rather than any of the others. His voice gave a level of calmness, easing the topic away from the future battle. "I have complete faith in their success."

General Germont had to admit, the plan was a good one. A joint strike from the south, a combined naval and aerial presence supported by a secondary aerial presence from the north west, striking at the enemy battleline in it's rear. Sound, and brutally effective. Most of Romania's forces were to give further aid from the air, clearly an attempt to challenge the Legion for air superiority.

He would have to talk with a military strategist at some point. Some of the terms were a bit confusing. After all, what was this gyrocopter or airplane that these reports spoke of?

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Kirche had been watching the foreigners from afar for quite some time. Both honor guards had long since made camp, or what could pass off as a camp. One didn't need symbols or even appearance to see how divided they were. Was it just them being professional, or did they simply wish to not interact?

Amongst themselves, they got along fine. The orcs were loud, arm wrestling or just simply recounting tales of glory. Or just telling tales, based on how some of them seemed to be laughing. Humans just simply chatted amongst themselves, keeping their voices a bit lower than their counterparts.

No, she wasn't out here because she had ran into a person that just screamed that she was Louise's mother, and no, she wasn't out here because she was horrified of her. Ok, she was. No matter how much Kirchie prepared her nerves, her accidental run in with the Valliere materarc had shown her how ill prepared she was.

Tabitha had likewise been shaken up, though most wouldn't know by looking at the girl. Kirche had long since learned how to read the stoic girl's emotions, and while she was more composed than Kirchie, she could tell they might be getting into a situation bet more than they could handle.

Lucky for them, their new teacher was chatting with her like an old friend, completely unaware, or even more likely, completely uncaring about the pressure she was putting off. It said quite a lot about the elf and how powerful she really was. It allowed them to temporarily retreat, and replan their approach.

How did one attempt to threaten someone far more powerful than them? Typically, the answer would be with some form of blackmail. They really had no form of insurance, nothing to keep them from being utterly ignored or even tossed aside. If they didn't figure out something, Louise may just end up vanishing all together.

She had hopped observing the guards for the event would give her some form of inspiration, but it also seemed for naught. For military allies, they seemed to be more than willing to keep their distance and seperated. It wasn't encouraging.

That changed as one person pulled a strange object out of his pack. Kirchie raised an eyebrow. It didn't seem that important. It was simply a long, thin board. She wasn't sure what type of purpose it would logically serve, or why anyone would waste space on such an object. Of course, she hadn't expected it to catch the eyes of one of the orcs.

Another board was pulled from the bag near the orcs feet, one of equal length and size. Both made a move to one of the unoccupied tables between both camps, claiming it as their own. Musketeers and young nobles like looked on at the confusing display, while Horde and Alliance guards appeared to be more amused than anything else.

While the larger orc really couldn't fit into the chair, it still didn't stop both from locking the two boards together. This only served to confuse Kirchie further. Why would they fit together like a puzzle?

"Playing," Tabitha stated simply, actually looking over the spine of her book in interest. Playing? They were playing with two pieces of wood and cards. Wait. Cards? Kirchie took another look, confirming that yes, there were cards being held in their hands.

But that didn't answer exactly what they were playing. She knew more than a few games that could be played with a standard deck, much to her parents chargen, but whatever they were playing was foreign. It wasn't helping that she had a bit too much distance to really tell what was going on.

A few minutes later, growls of defeat and whoops of victory were heard. The loser stepped down, and another took his place.

"Fascinating," Tabitha muttered, no longer focusing on her book at all, merely keeping it up to maintain appearances. Kirchie looked at her best friend, almost questioning what she was doing. That was until she noticed Sylphia, who appeared to be sleeping nearby. Nobody appeared to be paying attention to the slumbering familiar, more content to let the young dragon sleep than anything else.

Except, the familiar was faking it's slumber. She had her own curiosity about the newcomers, and had been sneaking up on them slowly. Honestly, they were likely aware of the dragon by that point, but seemed to not care. Her master was willing to tolerate with her mischievous behavior for the time being. After all, it did allow her to peek in on what was happening.

In reality, Sylphia wanted one of the weird hats the soldiers were wearing. She knew better than to take one straight off their head, for such would get her into trouble, so she had to wait for one to take their viser off. It was only a matter of time before the dragon found her place to strike. The last few centimeters were almost painful in their slowness. Her mouth opened, ready to bite down and retreat away with her prize.

"Slyphia, no," the command was given, but by that point, it was already too late. Slyphia's jaws closed around the helmet and it let out a baleful squeak. The world seemed to pause, for in that moment, everyone was looking at the dragon with a squeaky guardsmen helmet in her mouth.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sorry this took so long. Between the last update and this I tried to write a new story, but scrapped it part of the way through. Plus, I've had a problems in my technology class that desperately needed fixing.

I hope you all enjoyed!


	16. Negotiations Part 3

Saurian: Kadagar is currently working on the final stages of the attack on the broken shore, which should be coming up fairly soon. Illidan is currently preparing his demon hunters for the battle to come, and evaluating it's leadership, and Maiev is keeping an eye on him.

Right now, Halkeginia as a whole is adapting to both major factions, and not all of the minor ones are likely planning on interacting with these new nations, if simply due to distance.

Horn: Thank you!

Guest: Hearthstone is very much a cannon part of WoW, and I'm going to use it! Nothing says breaking down faction barriers like a game of cards.

Or dragonflights in general. Out of all of Azeroth's non Horde or Alliance factions, they would be the most interested, mostly because they have jobs to do, and Halkeginia is now a part of Azeroth, and by definition, under their protection.

Also, this chapter has spoilers for events that take place in season three. Though I expect most readers to be aware of it, you have been warned.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The world went absolutely still, and in that moment, everyone in the courtyard was staring at the dragon, who was at present, prancing around with the once metal helmet in her mouth. Each flex of her jaw caused it to let out a baleful queek, as if it were chew toy for a dog. Even Tabathia seemed a bit shocked by the turn of events, though one would have to know here very well to tell.

"I do apologize for that," a new voice spoke, one with command, even causing Sylphid to stop for a moment to eye the newcomer. Meanwhile, Tabitha almost frowned. His hair was a shade of blue, which normally wouldn't be worrying at all, but he had already observed her teacher's reaction to what hair colors were considered normal in Halkeginia. It alone forced her to come to the conclusion that such was rare, if not outright unheard of.

And the man was clearly Azerothian, or at least, very well known to them, based on his casual demeanor. It didn't help that she could sense a large amount of magical energy from the man. Sure, it wasn't as suppressed as their newfound teacher kept her own, but it still vast. His blue hair, the same hair that reminded her of Sylphid's own when she took her human guise, came down to his shoulder.

His clothes consisted of a brown vest with brown pants, with white sleeves ending in blue gloves. Brown boots filled out the rest, in an ever unassuming outfit, if somewhat fancy. He had placed the helmet back on the table, likely the original. Azerothian magic was still to unknown to her to even begin making a guess on how he accomplished such a task.

"Kalec, I didn't know you would be here," one of the soldiers said, making it clear that this man was known, if not respected, by both factions. He seemed to chuckle.

"It was a bit of a surprise affair, really," he said, almost laughing, "Mostly just a lot of small things all leading me to the same place. One part Kirin Tor, and well, the rest I'm really not at liberty to say."

"Then I wish you luck!" the soldier bellowed, before returning his attention the game, which had been somewhat forgotten. Whatever comatossion caused by Sylphid had died away at that point, having been almost forgotten in the newcomers wake.

"Well, that was weird," Kirchie said at last, still somewhat confused by the matter.

"Yes, strange" Tabitha's eyes narrowed somewhat, staring at the door where the man had entered. She would need to talk to Sylphid, and soon.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Though they were on a campus full of teenagers, non present sought to put a silence charm over the meeting tent, which was while loud squeak brought the event to a sudden halt. Everyone present paused, almost taken by the ridiculousness of it all.

Marlexana decided to take a peek outside, just to see what was going on that had caused the meeting to grind to a halt. It went without saying that the elf had seen a lot over her time on Azeroth, but that failed to compare to what she saw.

"Well?" Anduin asked politely, waiting for her to speak on the matter.

"High King, I must inform you that one of the familiars decided that one of your soldiers helmets made for excellent chew toy," she was cut off by another loud squeak, almost humorlessly timed, "And that Kalec replaced it with something she could actually chew on." If words could describe faces, the look of what, would be common.

"Well, I suppose if there's no real harm done," Anduin stated, almost to good and kind of a soul. "I do wonder what Kalec is doing here, though." Cardenal Metzen let out a cough, drawing attention to himself.

"Let us return to the matter at hand. In your talks with Rominia, you requested that they keep as much distance from Northrend as possible, and they told us to do the same. What exactly is hidden up there that you want others to stay away from?" the question caused Maltuk to frown.

"Many things," Maltuk spoke honestly, armored fingers coming together under his chin. "Both Andiun and I agreed to keep our own factions interaction with the continent to a handful of military outposts or in cases when something there needs dealt with immediately."

"As such, what exactly calls the horrors of Northrend home are something we'd like to keep between high ranking members of the military and rulers of nations themselves," it was Anduin that spoke, his usually stern but diplomatic voice now somewhat harsh, and was unwilling to compromise on that matter.

Hentrintia was taken aback. Such a statement, from a person like Anduin, did somewhat drive the point home. What exactly could be up there that concerned both of them to such extent? A few of the nobles looked nervous or even frustrated with things thus far.

"How do we know you aren't using the resources there already!" someone snapped, a member of a minor noble house most likely. Maltuk let out a growl as things quickly descended into finger pointing, political bickering, and further nonsense. He shared a look with Anduin, and the boy king nodded.

Before anyone could attempt to return order, the sound of something slamming into the wooden table put an end to the bickering, as all eyes turned to the Warchief. Now on the table lay a piece of ore, dark as the night itself. Hentrintia looked at the mass, wondering what he was doing with it. She rubbed her temple unconsciously, only noticing a few others doing the same.

"Now that I have your attention," the Warchief stated, speaking as he was talking to misbehaving children, "this is Saronite. The only place in the world you can find it is in Northrend."

"It's also solidified blood," any hand that had moved toward the object recoiled back, as if struck. "The entity that bleed this is still very much alive. Prolonged exposure can lead to headaches, nosebleeds, and in large quantities, lead to insanity or even loss of control of one's body to this creature."

"And for those of you what ask why haven't we killed it yet? Simple. We don't have the power, and even if we did, it would be so devastating to the planet that it'll kill everything," Maltuk came to a pause. "It's also vulnerable to light based energy." As if to prove a point, a jolt of light passed through Anduin's fingers, destroying nearly half of the hunk of solidified blood.

Maltuk placed the rest in the bag from which it had came.

"Why, exactly, would we be taking resources from a content when the very metal is trying to brainwash you?" he asked, pausing for effect. "Nobody would. Nobody sane, anyway."

Cardenal Metzan had to frown. It proved the point that need to be proven, but possibly a bit too harshly. But he did have to agree. Such a substance was far too dangerous to use. And they had used it as an example, and hadn't named the beast that spawned such horrid works. He wasn't exactly buying killing the monster would be a threat to the planet, but they thought so, so risking it would be difficult.

But he had seen the bloods effect first hand. Already, more than a few were bleeding from their noses, and more rubbing their temples. Only a few seemed to be spared the momentary indignity. Himself, primarily, but also Duke Valliere. It did raise an unsettling question, though. If it's blood could do that, how could any one man push it back? It couldn't have been one man, of course, he read the Rominia report. They used either five or ten to thirty man kill teams for situations like that, where the enemy simple overpowered one individual.

Thankfully, the point was driven, and what protest any of the nobles had was defeated. Most due to their own headaches, and their own mild fear. It was something that they didn't want anything to do with. Thankfully, they excused themselves from the meeting for the time being, almost a bit of a recess. Mar even joined them, wanting to exactly track what was going on outside.

Maltuk looked around the tent. What was once packed with nobles now only a few remained. Hentrentia, the future ruler, the Cardenal, the present one, General Germot, Viscount Wardes, commander of the Griffon Knights, and an unknown blonde man in the back. However, someone would have requested him to leave if he wasn't important.

"The entity that spawned Saronite is part of a set, a group of horrors that have called Azeroth home. We simply refer to them as Old Gods, and out of the original four, three remain, all of them imprisoned beneath Azeroth's crust. Of the three prisons, we are aware of the location of two. One is in Northrend, and it hold the one known as Yogg-Saron," Anduin started. "According to records in titan observatories, he was the last to be imprisoned, with the fortress of Ulduar built over it, allowing for the Titan's creations to keep watch over him for all time. That was close to nearly one hundred thousand years ago."

"And we know it was not time spent ideally. By the time our war with the Lich King began, Yogg-Saron was close to breaking his bonds, having corrupted several titan keepers that were meant to guard him. It was only due to a Dwarf, Brann Bronzebeard, that we became aware of the threat, and were able to launch an attack on the citadel," Maltuk continued, eyes almost seeming to flash back to another time. "I was part of the assault team. We breached the defenses, awoke the remaining keepers from their brainwashed state, resealed the prison, and we shattered it's physical form, for good measure. Yogg-Saron is still alive, but its power is diminished."

"And that wasn't the last of our concerns. The keeper that joined him willingly had set up a system, where a beacon would be sent out if he were to die. The Observator would rush to Azeroth, to determine if the world was to far corrupted or not. It deemed it so, and attempted to reset all life on the planet. We managed to beat him, too, and prevented everything from being unmade," the orc ended, eyes closing.

"The Lich King?" Metzin asked, confused. He knew what a lich was, yes, but he never heard of such a title before.

"Arthas Menethil, former crown Prince of Lorderian, currently home to the Forsaken. He slaughtered his own people, and made their home in life their home after death," the orc ground out, "After his attack on our cities, both faction raced north, all the while at each other's throats."

"Back then, neither faction attempted to resort to demplocy. Much, at any rate. But even back then, there had been an understanding, after we reached Northrends shores. If we wasted time and men fighting against each other, then the undead would overwhelm us both. This truce, this understanding held mostly, for a time," Anduin stated, keeping his arms crossed.

"Then the Wrathgate incident destroyed what truce we had managed to eke out. Hundreds on both sides died, all due to the actions of one who'd gone rogue, taking control of the Undercity. We managed to reclaim the city, but it was already too late. The diplomatic damage was done, and if it wasn't for the Argent Crusade, we likely would have lost," Maltuk seemed full of sorrow, much more resigned, "and we almost had."

"Arthas had a plan, a very risky, but ultimately, if it had worked, Azeroth would be doomed. Those who were capable of fighting through his best servants, ones who could push him to his limit, would make for mightest of champions. And seeing as the Scourge's forces were endless, even with how much we had destroyed, it would have worked," Anduin's words seemed calm, and very cold. "If it was not for Tirion Fordring, who managed to shatter Frostmourne, the Lich King's cursed sword, then it would have."

"And even with the Lich King's defeat, we ran into a problem. The Scourge wasn't a force you could simply cut off it's head. No, cutting off it's head caused the Scourge to run wild. Arthas kept them in control, prevented them from doing to much damage, and without him, they could swarm over the whole of Azeroth like locusts," Maltuk went on, almost as if he was there to witness everything first hand. "And thus, the greatest secret of our age was born. Bolvar Fordragon sacrificed himself take control of the Scourge, preventing them from killing all life. But Arthas didn't fall in a day. The armor, the blade, even the helmet, was host to another being. If it could twist one, it could twist another."

An eerie silence crept over the room. That was truly a lot to take in. Cardenal Metzen frowned, disturbed by the revelations. Two admitted world ending threats in such close proximity. It was a threat to do ill to ignore, but Tristan didn't have the strength to make an attempt. The way the Albion rebellion was going, they wouldn't even have the forces to stop that without Germanian help.

And that was without the threat of a Legion attack hanging over their heads. When did things become this bad? They had this hanging over their heads! How did they manage? Just how used were they to everything seeming like it was going downhill? He felt if he had the weight of the world put onto his shoulders, when he was already carrying the weight of one.

"I think a recess is in order," the man sighed, rubbing his brow, "We should meet back in an hour or so."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"That could have gone better," Anduin sighed, crossing his arms, looking up at the much taller Warchief.

"I have to agree," he nodded, eyes closed in contemplation, "I keep forgetting that they are not used to Azeroth's constant struggle."

Anduin would want to disagree on the last bit, but it seemed mostly true. There always appeared to be someone who wanted to conquer or destroy the world. Still, it haven't stopped him from seeking peace when it was still an option, something that had already paid dividends.

"This whole landmass was relatively peaceful until a few years before we arrived. I don't think there have been major armed conflict in some time," Anduin stated, frowning somewhat. "But only in Albion does there appear to be active combat."

"That's where I get concerned. You've read the most recent reports, correct?" Maltuk questioned, opening his eyes. Anduin nodded. "Then you realize their original bakers are pulling away. It's become something they don't want to associate with anymore. Or something they've lost control of."

"You suspect the Legion is involved?" Anduin's eyes widened in realization, as he frowned. That was a double edge sword. On one hand, it gave them a reason to get involved in the conflict, but it also gave the Legion a new, easily defendable front to fight from. And there was no doubt they were more than willing to blow up the whole island if they couldn't hold it.

"I'm also concerned about the backers themselves. What was their goal with this conflict?" Maltuk shook his head. "We need more information on it. As much as possible."

Anduin hadn't needed to take a guess their had been some type of shadow war likely developing between Azeroth's intelligence agencies and this concerning third party. He wouldn't be surprised if the Uncrowned were leading the charge this time around.

"I'd have to agree, but at the moment we have to be patent. I'm sure something will turn up and some point or another," Anduin smiled lightly, hoping what he was saying ended up being true.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ah, Archmage Kalec, it's quite a surprise to see you here," Marlexana grinned, looking at the dragon in human flesh. However, he seemed distracted, eyes fluttering between Slyphad and Tabitha. "You do realize their both too young for you, right?"

The question got the man's attention, causing him to sputter indignantly.

"Is that really the first place your mind goes?" he ask as the elven warlock chuckled.

"Just making sure you were paying attention," she smiled, before looking at the two. "So, let me guess, it's dragonflight business?" He didn't really answer the question, simply nodding.

"Please don't tell me you think Slyphad is a blue," she sighed, rubbing her temple when she got no response. Marlexana had been keeping an eye on that dragon for quite some time, and it just seemed like a more intelligent Halkegenia dragon, not a blue drake. There wasn't much of a passing resemblance. Different facial structure, scales a much lighter shade than the dark azure that covered the average blue.

"That isn't he only reason I'm here, you know," he said, frowning slightly.

"Oh? Then please, do tell," she grinned, almost as if teasing the archmage and dragon.

"The same reason you were requested. It seems like Cho wasn't able to accept. Unfortunately, I don't think I shall, either, until I saw …," he cut himself off, suddenly, both their heads turning around at the same time. "You felt that, right?"

Marlexana simply nodded. A very, very brief spike of magical energy, for a very powerful individual.

"Well, I better get going. It was nice seeing you, but I have to make sure my students haven't been the straw that have broken the hawkstrider's back," she said, wishing her staff was along for the journey one this one.

"I believe the phrase is 'the straw that broke the camel's back'," Kalec corrected, looking somewhat smug with himself, as the women merely shrugged.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sorry this took so long. I was out of town and didn't bring my laptop for the journey. I also have finals coming up, so whatever story gets updated next will be behind schedule. As for the negotiations arc it's just about wrapped up, and after that, we go pretty much straight into the Tomb of Sargeras arc.


	17. Negotiations Part 4

Death: Honestly, Blizzard has been a bit vague on exactly what happened within the Lich King. The Arthas novel states that he killed both Ner'Zhul and Arthas, will in the game it's stated that Arthas was still resisting the Lich King's complete control. Then we have the Death Knight quest that we fight both Arthas and Ner'Zhul within the shattered Frostmorne, and Ner'Zhul seems more responsive than just a simple shade or memory.

Honestly, I suspect Blizzard is going to be doing something with him soon, and, furthermore, the characters don't have all the information that we do. They know Arthas was somewhat holding out, and if he was, couldn't Ner'Zhul have as well?

Horn: Thank you.

Tippi: Not on screen, and certainly not the whole picture. While they know Titan's were responsible for all life, excavations on Draenor can show that they can be a bit more subtle than what Azeroth is used to. That, and seeing how Halkegenia also share's Azeroth's Titan now, learning that your planet is now possibly a ticking time bomb will be likely to cause panic.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"What do you mean, she's too weak to travel?" Karin had expected many things when she had finally entered the room, but she hadn't expected her daughter to be watched over by what looked like a smaller version of her daughter. The pinkette, a gnome, she had to remind herself, was quite blunt about Louise's health.

Or, more accurately, just how bad it was. Granted, she wasn't expecting her youngest to be well, given how small she was, but it was considerably worse than she had expected. Louise's limbs were gaunt, and while they were thin to begin with, now they look much worse. More fit on a dying body than on her own daughter. Her legs were in even worse shape, and seeing as she walked in during one of Louise's exercises, it was something Karin had seen first hand.

"If she had more muscle before all this, I'd consider it. I'm sure you'd at the very least make sure she'd move around and stretch herself," the pinkette said, keeping calm, meanwhile easing some of her daughter's pain with a spell of sorts. "However, I cannot release my patient with any degree of confidence, and thus, I shall not."

Karin, while remaining expressionless, brisseled internally. The comment held no ill will, that was true, but it felt like an insult all the same.

"I mean no offense, but I doubt her body is ready to handle the journey in any capacity," the gnome continued, almost as if aware that Karin had taken her comment in a way she hadn't intended.

"Then how long tell she is?" Karin asked, looking down at the smaller figure. Most would be intimidated by her, especially if they knew her identity. Was she not aware, or was this gnome treating her more like a concerned mother than an army slaying mage?

"Two weeks at least, probably even longer. The fact she can't even complete this simple excurse is proof that she's in worse shape than I originally thought," Kithkiris let out a sigh of what had to be conceded defeat. It was a slight hit to pride she held as a healer that this wasn't something she had noticed sooner. Her first mistake was letting her head to the class, rather than trying to test her physical endurance.

It didn't take a genus to figure out that Karin didn't like it. She'd seen the type before. Sure, they may act like an emotionless rock, but when one they cared about was on the line, something slipped, even if they themselves didn't notice. That was nothing compared to Louise herself. Sure, Kithkiris knew she wasn't exactly qualified in areas of mental health, but it was a foregone conclusion she had massive self esteem issues.

Then there was the mana potion, which hadn't shown any effects yet, was another thing. Certainly something Karin wouldn't appreciate, even if it did succeed at the task at hand. Then finally, there was Mar's own interest. While she owned the elf nothing, it was that she had such an interest. It still boggled her. Kithkiris knew why Louise was there, exhausting her magical reserves during a ritual. How exactly that happened, or what she could of done to accomplish such a feat, she didn't know. She was certain Mar had her own theories, but any attempts to question the redhead on them got her nowhere. Something on the line of it being too insane to be true.

"Right now, the best I can do is sent word to you when she is ready for cross country travel. I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but for now, it's best she stays," Kithkiris sighed, hoping that Karin would listen. Sad parents didn't make for the most rational people at times, but her first impression was that Karin seemed to have much tighter control over herself than many.

"Very well. I do suppose it is for the best," thankfully, Karin relented. Causing Kithkiris to internally sigh with relief. Even though Louise was her patient, there was nothing she really could do if Karin wanted to take her daughter home. Not legally, at any rate, certainly not in Tristain. Esspecally with a member of high ranking nobility.

"Though I do have one condition," Karin continued, drawing the shorter pinkette's interest. "I would request a member of your order to accompany me and my husband home. One of our other daughters has been ill for quite some time. We have exhausted all options available to us until now."

Kithkiris nodded. While she didn't have much in the way of direct command over anyone, such a case could earn a potential political ally. Such a case would require a powerful priest, of course, one that might succeed. It wasn't a guarantee, but it could be done. Esspecally when there was a chance to do good in the world.

"I will send word at once. I hold no doubt that one could be send swiftly," the Gnome nodded, already rummaging through a few stacks of paper, finding a few clean sheets. The only thing that might put a damper on the response was the looming attack on the Broken Shore. As many combat ready healers were going to be needed for such an endeavor, but it was still some time off. If what she heard was true, then the headmaster was planning a large field trip of sorts to Dalaran the very same day. She wasn't exactly sure what Khadgar was thinking on that little idea.

"I will leave you too it, then," Karin said, still keeping an eye on her daughter as she slumbered. Had such a task truly taken that much out of her?

Another knock came at the door, causing the Gnome to hum to herself. "Come in."

"Ah, I'm sorry," Karin turned around, somewhat surprised to see Princess Hentrientia there. She remembered the days were the princess and her daughter used to play around when they were small children. Apparently, she did as well.

"Greetings, Princess," Karin stood up, bowing slightly. Her statement was picked up by the gnome, who bowed as well. Or at the very least nodded, it was hard to tell with her short figure.

"Dutchess Valliere," Hentrientia returned the greeting. The purple haired girl wasn't surprised by her presence. "There has been a recess called for the time being."

"The whole business with Northrend, I presume," it was the Gnome's voice that seemed oddly cold. Karin internally frowned. While the small humanoid had been stern, it was clear she at the very least cared. And the simple wording was off. She was aware that Northrend was Azeroth's northernmost land mass, but little else. That, and both factions seemed to want everyone to keep their distance.

"Yes," the Princess stammered, surprised. She had heard of Gnomes before, but she hadn't actually seen one. The pink hair was a bit startling, as well, but it was the tone that had taken her off guard the most. "How did you know?"

"I figured it would come up," Kithkiris shrugged, more to shake off memories than anything else. "Nobody has good memories connected to the place. Either someone lost loved ones to Northrend itself, or the monsters that decided to call that place home. Any Blood Elf or Forsaken could talk your ear off, especially."

Karin almost raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn't the answer she had expected, and it didn't answer any of her questions. Hopefully, her husband would be able to fill her in on what was said later. But she had seen the look the Gnome held in her eye before. Healers where always of high demand on any battlefield. It was simply a truth of war. Azeroth would be no exception. So it came as no surprise that this one had seen combat as well.

However, the Princess's face made it seem like it was more than just that. What exactly was on this Northrend that could possibly be so important? Her wording made it seem like something dangerous was hiding there. Or was, at any rate. No, they wouldn't have asked for foreign parties to keep their distance if that was the case. But why leave a job half finished?

Questions that she would need answered, but that would come later. It didn't look like the Gnome wished to talk further on the matter, and naturally, the Princess appeared to desire to keep her mind off such things. For the time being, Karin was willing to indulge her future liege on that.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"What happened here?" Marlexana almost demanded, taking in the site of the hallway. After finding everything to be normal with Karin, which really wasn't hard, seeing as the Princess hadn't closed the door, she had checked elsewhere. She hadn't been to this part of the building yet, despite it being a few floors below the Headmaster's office. The stone was warped and cracked, as if some had formed from it. She'd seen stone heated to the point where it melted. It was much to smooth for such means to have caused what lay before her. An earth mage would be the only explanation.

But why? Now that she'd gotten close, the warlock could tell the massive doors were enchanted. No, that wasn't it. Rather, the door and the wall were. Charms, defensive magic, spells that could even reduce the effects of aging, all weaved together into a tapestry of energy. Whoever, no, whatever, was capable of weaving such magecraft, had truly mastered the art. Part of her, a very vocal and irrational part of her, wanted to reach out and touch such a masterpiece.

She did not. It felt wrong. For all it's glory, easily enough to put many an elven mage to shame, it wasn't natural. It felt hungry. Even the fel, as easy as it could consume the more orderly arcane, didn't feel this ravenous. It didn't feel like it would reach out and consume her.

Marlexana's body recoiled back, as if physically struck. It was void. Or at the very least, a diluted form of it. The fifth element of Halkgenia's system, a form of magic that had been used by one man alone. Different from what shadow priests or even insane members of the Twilight Cult used, yes. But once she had identified it, she could see the similarities. To think anyone could wield such power without going mad. Either Brimir was truly being akin to gods, or the church was hiding something.

Colbert, thankfully had rushed into the room, looking around wildly, and she heard the Headmaster's staff tap against stone.

"What happened here?" Colbert asked, echoing her own question from earlier.

"I have no idea," Mar frowned, looking at the balding man. "I think some type of earth magic. Fire wouldn't do this too stone. It would still be heated otherwise."

"A wise assessment," the old man grumbled, abnormally serous, though it was likely the correct tone to have at a time like these. "How did you get here so fast, anyway? Certainly you didn't feel any shaking out there?"

"No, I felt magical buildup. Decided to investigate when my first theory ended up being incorrect," Mar sighed, resisting the urge to slump over. "I would have been here faster, but I the spells in place are throwing off my senses." It was alarming that she'd never detected this before. How was it something she could have missed in the first place?

"What would anyone want that's on the other side of that door, anyway?" she questioned, not wanting to take her gaze away from the spellwork. Now that she was aware of it, she'd begun to feel a sense of unease in her stomach.

"It's the vault here at the academy. Like everything else here, it was enchanted by Brimir himself," Colbert explained. "We use it to store dangerous magical artifacts, like the Staff of Destruction." Marlexana frowned. Who in their right mind would keep anything with a name like 'Staff of Destruction' in a school full of children!

"I do believe Fouquet might be behind this attempt," Osmund stated, wearing a grim look on his face. That was a name Mar did recognize. Apparently some thief that had been stealing from many noble families, taking trinkets and other items.

"So, how exactly did he sneak onto campus, with several honor guards, from three different factions, on top of our normal security?" Marlexana asked the one question that everyone should be at this point. "And even more importantly, why would anyone strike now, of all times? Security is tight, and anything suspicious was going to tip us off, which will only make things harder!" She groaned out the last bit. There was already enough on her plate as it was. No need to add magic thieves to the list.

"Correct. This was done too fast. Either breaking into the vault wasn't what he after, or this was a distraction," Osmund looked ready to take a smoke on his pipe, before the wooden item clattered too the floor. Marlexana muttered elven obscenities under her breath, whipping around wildly, trying to think. What else of value was there? Something in the headmaster's office? A person? Kidnapping wasn't Fouquet's deal, but someone of importance?

Maltuk could take care of himself, and Anduin was likely not far from the orc. Princess Hentrientia would be pretty freaking stupid to try and go after. Yeah, he could get the Queen's ransom, quite literally at that, but there is no easy way to keep that secret and still remain close to civilization. Karin was in the same boat as Maltuk, even more so, to be honest. Any of the children would likely make for a good snatch in a pinch.

Marlexana reached out with her sense, ignoring the magical energy from the door and the surrounding stone. An attempt to reach out, at the very least, see if anything could be found. But nothing. There wasn't a hint of anything wrong or even remotely suspicious. She sighed, dropping her arms and releasing another string of elvish obscenities under her breath. It didn't mean Fouquet wasn't there. Likely, he hadn't left to begin with.

"Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do for now," Osmund sighed, stroking his white beard. "The magic keeping the vault safe will hold. It's done it's job for thousands of years, and it isn't going to stop now." The elf wanted to argue, but ultimately, she didn't. As things were, it would be stupid to just leave the problem as is. The safeguards keeping Quel'thalas remained in place for far longer, and yet they were undone by the work of a single traitor. If Louise's spellwork meet this, there was no telling what might happen. Even introducing any known magical system on Azeroth could be a recipe for disaster.

"Very well. If you believe it is wise, I shall return to my duties," Marlexana pinched her brow, stifling the urge to yawn. She was in no mood to argue by this point. A combination of her responsibilities and her flaggering sleep schedule made it so. By now, her role at the meeting was pretty much done. A honest nap is what she needed right around now.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Louise's eyes fluttered open, her voice letting out a soft groan as she awake from her sore slumber. Even with the magic that was being pumped into her body, sleep still didn't feel good. She tried to push herself up, only to fall back into her pillow. Louise heard the gnome sigh, somewhere off to her right.

"She does this every time," the fellow pinkette explained. "So unwilling to tell me she's woken up, and simply straining herself." Louise frowned at the statement. Not that it wasn't true, a fact her nurse ceaselessly reminded her of, but she said it, as if there were other people in the room with her.

Finally, Louise's eyes finally dispelled the tiredness that clung to them. Princess Henrietta and her mother? Louise immediately panicked, trying to push herself into a respectable position. She wouldn't show such disrespect even if…

"Louise, please don't," Kithkiris sighed. "You are only going to make things worse if you keep moving like that." The gnome's voice was stern, like how one might scold a misbehaving child.

"Louise, listen to your doctor," Karin likewise commanded. Where Kithkiris's approach would have taken longer, Louise froze up immediately, almost by instinct. She knew better than to refuse to listen to her mother. Kithkiris nodded to the women in thanks. While the speed of Louise's reaction was no small part concerning, it had stopped her from doing further harm to herself.

A simple spell was all that she needed to prop the small girl into a sitting position. At the very least, it should be enough to have a conversation with her friend. Honestly, Kithkiris didn't really care much for protocall. Friendship was friendship, and some people needed to take it where they could. Louise especially. She had a habit of driving away anyone that she didn't want around her, and that seemed like almost everyone fit that description.

However, she would leave the two too their privacy. Hentrientia needed to take her mind off what had happened, at least for a while, and Louise needed someone else besides her to talk too. Light knew how her and Louise couldn't really talk about much on anything. Completely different tastes in literature, men, faith, and simply their age and upbringing didn't leave much to talk about.

Having someone to talk to might even do Louise some good, recovery wise. Doing things you loved or being around those you cared about could do quite the job of speeding along recovery. Love was a form of magic in it's own right, one that didn't need a wand or a staff, or anything special at all. It even made her job easier from time to time. Hopefully, Louise learned that lesson sooner rather than later.

"Let them talk," Kithkiris mouthed, "You'll have time to speak with her after they are finished." The pinkette returned to her work, pinning out her letter.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Fouquet let out a frustrated sigh. She didn't expect what she had done to work, but it was still much too close for comfort. Even if she wasn't going to be working for Reconquestia in the future, appearances needed to be maintained. And she was certain her new employer's wouldn't mind having their hands on an artifact like the Staff of Destruction, anyway. Stealing something such as that under such heavy guard would only serve to increase her reputation.

However, she was nearly caught. Not by a guard, but one of the members of faculty. The elf managed to arrive not long after she had finished her task, forcing her to leave before she could repair the damage. Why she was even there in the first place was unknown, but the fact she had somehow known was troublesome. If she were to attempt to break into the vault again, she would need to take into account this newfound unknown. How fast could she react? How exactly had she realized something was amiss? For the time being, it was going to be best to play it safe.

Fouquet had thought long and hard on the offer the stranger had given her. Honestly, it was a good bargain, almost too good. That itself made her suspicious. When something was too good to be true, then it typically was, specially in her business. Especially when her identity was in the hands of a total stranger. Even though this individual swore to not release her identity, she had no reason to expect honesty, and even less so when her sister was involved.

However this group managed to piece together her identity and trace it to Tiffinia was even more alarming. She had checked and double checked. It simply wasn't possible to track the money she sent to the orphanage. Then there was the last part. They knew Tiffinia was a half-elf. Knowing an elf alone was enough for one to be executed under charges of Heresy by the church. Harboring a half-elf would levey considerably worse punishment. There was always the risk that someone found out, but now that information was either in the best of hands, or the complete worst.

Of course, them rescuing Tiffinia was no small task. Albion was in the middle of a civil war, and slipping in and out would nearly be impossible. And that wasn't accounting for the fact it was a floating island, with it's underside entirely covered in mist. Very few vessels would dare hug it's underside, and those were captains with experience. A successful extraction would either need that, or it would require something nobody would expect.

She would have to ask, or at the very least, be informed of what exactly their plan was. She wasn't sending her sister too her death. There was a reason the orphanage was built into the woods. Nobody would know, because no one would go out that far. Yet, things had already devolved out of her control. Reconquesta had found her, and now this Uncrowned. She still had time to make a choice, but was it really a choice at all?

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

That's all for this chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed, and for those of you who don't read Hound of Ylisse, I was late on this update due to finals and a short trip.

I do apologize for this, and hope to see you all again soon.


	18. Even the Best Laid Plans

Artyom: At this point, I don't know what to say. I'm using spelling from the Wiki, and everything is lining up as best as I can get it. Hopefully Grammarly fixes things up.

Captain: Not really. Besides the diplomatic repercussions of such an act, it's unlikely that even if the Pope knew, he wouldn't really be able to do anything at that point. I mean, the worst he could do is make a statement saying that the Alliance hired a thief that most nobles in Tristain wanted dead, but seeing as everyone thinks Fouquet is a guy, it probably wouldn't happen.

Tippi: Halkegenia has it's own weird things it's inhabitants can't explain, and Azeroth's history is very long. Titan structures are least on the explanation list, at least until Argus, where things are going to have to come to light. Most assume those structures were made by something Azerothians only know the function of, not what made them.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Welcome to Dalaran!" Marlexana grinned as what had once been the grumbling of tired students had fallen away. It was optional, so they'd all know what they had gotten into. Most of the group had come from her class, a fact that didn't surprise her. Louise was in attendance, a pleasant surprise, though her crutches had put a damper on her pride. Kirche and Tabitha were close by, likely under orders from Kithkiris to make sure she didn't hurt herself.

Guiche and his girlfriend, Montmorency, seemed already edging away from the group as a whole. She'd have a spell to keep an eye on them for the time being. She didn't expect trouble, so long as they stayed out of the sewer, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Thankfully, Colbert was there to help, which was a particular blessing seeing as she wouldn't be going with them for the journey back to Tristain. Longueville was also with them on academy business, and she appeared ready to bolt as well.

Though that wasn't her business. It probably had something to do with the council or even Khadgar. Which would explain her rush. Khadgar's speech was only a few hours away, so it would be best to get whatever it was done. Marlexana's ears twitched as the sound of crackling fire, turning her head to meet the unexpected newcomer.

"Ah, Ritssyn, it's good to see you again," the elf smiled, despite the fact, a few students behind her recoiled in fear. Orcs could be intimidating, especially if one didn't know them well, and given the Halkeginia kind, there was an even greater ingrained fear. Adding fire to the mix merely made things worse.

"So this is your newest batch of students. I can't say I'm impressed," Ritssyn narrowed his eyes over the group of young humans. "But they are much younger than the usual fair, so I suppose I can't hold it against them." Out of the lot, only one actually had potential. The small, blue-haired mouse of a girl. She had the eyes of someone who had seen conflict and hardship. She wasn't the only one, the bald man next to the elf also had a strange look to his eye.

Not that it mattered. Hardly any of Halkgenia's mages had been impressive, barring the pink haired woman. A mild-mannered school teacher who looked like he was about to jump out of his own skin was of little concern.

"Now, remember, nobody is permitted into the sewers, prison, or into the portal room at the center of town. And if you don't decide to listen, do not pick the portal to Old Dalaran. It drops you off where the city used to be, exactly. And as you can see here, it's now flying, so you'll have to deal with quite the drop, alongside whatever wild magic is left there," Marlexana spoke up, her voice rising up enough to be heard. "And if you wish to visit the faction quarters, talk to the guards stationed. They will find you an escort. Do not try to sneak in. Even if you had an invisibility spell, the Worgen would smell you."

"Now, with that out of the way, you are all to return in three hours to return to the academy. If you don't have any questions, go have some fun!" the group scattered at her demand, students making their way into the crowd, eyes seemingly lit with wonder.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Are you sure it's wise to let them run around unsupervised?" Ritssyn raised an eyebrow at that. He was aware that the elf had a strange method of teaching, allowing for one to learn from their mistakes without leading to potential death. But trying to harm them was a glorified death sentence if he had ever seen one.

"Dalaran has guards, soldiers, and is the hub for the most powerful adventures on Azeroth. There are few places safer based on pure principle," Marlexana shrugged. Sure, children had a very easy time finding their way into trouble, but Dalaran had enough safety, and more importantly, had enough to keep them out of trouble.

It was more of a surprise that the school agreed to this. Dalaran may have been safe, but it was a foreign nation. Neutral in Horde and Alliance affairs, most in Tristan and the other nations were uncertain about how to approach the smaller mage power. Seeing as the city was kept afloat by mortal magic, unlike Albion.

Marlexana frowned slightly as the name of the floating island crossed her mind. Even before Azeroth's arrival, the nation had been a hotbed of revolution and bloodshed. Maltuk himself had openly expressed concern over the group's leader, a fanatic by the name of Thomas Cromwell. Now that is victory appeared assured, he had finally begun opening his eyes to the changing world around him.

None of the Halkeginian nations cared about what he thought, but it was pretty clear that he wanted no peace with either faction. Horde and Alliance forces were spread thin as it was. The opening of another front would prove to be a disaster. The coming assault on the Broken Shore had already taken time, resources, and soldiers. Even with Romalia providing support, it was certain to be a bloody affair. It was unlikely that Crowell would launch an attack without capturing what little resistance remained, but that was only a matter of time. Maltuk had already deployed what he could along the eastern part of Horde territory in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Once the Legion was dealt with, they might have another threat breathing at their back. Hopefully, reasonable heads would prevail, but if her experience with the Twilight's Hammer had taught her anything, fanatics couldn't be reasoned with. They just wanted to watch the world burn. The same was often said about anyone who would ally with the Legion.

Still, Halkegenia had been fairly peaceful for years before this, and the last thing she wanted was her students to be pulled into a war. War was bloody, and it certainly wasn't a place meant for those still developing their minds. She was proof enough of that. That war, in particular, left more than a few scars, and what followed had done little to help.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heat flew from the forge, steam and flame exiting the vents near the top of the two-story building. Even with wards preventing the worst from entering out onto the street, enough was still released, leaving only a few to remain around the building. Hammers could be heard within, pounding against metal, bending it into shape. Ore from throughout the Broken Isle was used to forge arms and armor, relics and all manner of tools.

Even with temperamental Leystone requiring a more gentle hand, with Felslate being extremely unstable, the smiths of Dalaran had adapted to the situation at hand. It helped that the natives of the isle had been mining such resources for generations, and were willing to pass along that knowledge to help others.

Guiche frowned slightly, unsure of what to do. Once, he likely would have never considered doing what he was about to. As an earth mage, he could manipulate stone, even if he considered it crude in comparison to his bronze valkyries. Anything that came from the earth was his to command.

Yet, he didn't intend on using his magic for that. Not because he was concerned that the strange ore wouldn't respond, but a desire to do it the commoner.

No. Guiche shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Not the commoner way. The non-magical way. Azeroth's smiths didn't need magic to create works fit for legends. They used their strength, their sweat, and their skill. Nothing more. And if they could do it, then he, Guiche de Gramont, should be able to accomplish the same in time. Right?

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Kirche's eyes brisked around the shop, flickering over the seemingly endless number of dresses throughout the small shop. Most were enchanted, clearly marked as such due to cost. A few had either none or much less spellcraft weaved into them, putting them into a much more affordable range. Well, if they had any in her size. A slight frown filled her face. Without a doubt, these were beautiful, hand weaved, and worth the expense. Such a shame, really.

"Expensive," Tabitha muttered, only taking a quick glance at the isle upon isle of clothing. None of it was in her size, either, not that she was interested. She was more focused on keeping an eye on Louise, something the gnome had tasked them with. As much as the pinkette disliked their presence, her healer's wrath was something Tabitha wished to avoid if it could be helped.

It was a blessing Louise wasn't exactly mobile with her crutches, so they could keep pace easily enough. And that she didn't have her wand. That was gone for a few reasons, most of them sound enough as was.

A flash of pink drew her eye. Louise was leaving, likely having noticed their presence at last. Or she had gotten resigned from their task and the store, but it was much more likely to be the first.

Tabitha reached out, grabbing Kirche's sleeve in a flash, pulling her friend towards the door. It didn't take her long to realize what it was about, letting out a huff about having to leave another store.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The easiest way to describe the small building was tucked away between two larger structures, practically hidden away. It had some type of red cross on the small sign in front, with white sheets over the door. Trickling water could be heard from where she stood.

Montmorency felt ill at ease. Sure, there was nothing wrong, she'd seen a few people enter and exit the building, but she wasn't sure for what. Nothing brought in or out indicated anything about what was bought or sold. If anything at all, if that made any sense. Then again, nothing here seemed to make sense. Louise was being stalked by Tabitha and Kirche, of all people, while Guiche had entered the smithy some time ago.

What few places she'd poked her head into hadn't held her interest. The Alchemy shop was having issues, with everything on fire and a ghost flying around, only adding to the chaos. Meanwhile, the engineering workplace was much too loud, with gears and even small explosions being heard from the street. Likewise, the hole in the wall that they called an enchanters workshop had little in the way of actual wares.

Sure, the small greenhouse was relaxing, but she didn't care to spend all her time there. Which is what brought her to the calmest shop in the area. If it was even a shop, to begin with. Well, the only way to know for sure was just to go in and see what was happening. Her hand brushed through the sheets, parting them, entering the small first aid clinic. It had seen better days, and certainly a larger flow of patients.

Now, only adventures seeking to improve their first aid skills sought out building and was home to a few, plus one permanent patient.

"You're new around here."

Montmorency let out a small noise in surprise, nearly leaping out of her skin. Her eyes turn around, pinpointing the source of the voice. To an animal, in some type of water circulating contraption. She had never seen anything like it. It honestly reminded her of one of the inventions Professor Colbert brought up to class from time to time.

"Are you done staring yet?" all that confirmed was the voice was coming from the animal, despite all logic telling her that was impossible. Sure, some animals, magic or otherwise, could imitate human speech, but this was clearly responding, choosing words with actual intelligence.

"Don't mind him," a softer voice came from behind her, further back towards the cots. Long ears, much like her teacher's own, though instead of glowing sickly green, these were blue. "He suffered complication during the first attack on the Broken Shore, and has been stuck like that ever since."

Montmorency nodded, taken off guard. So that animal was actually a person. She wondered exactly what could cause someone to get stuck like that, or why one might even want to turn into an animal. It didn't make sense to her. Then again, few things did in this strange place.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Caw, Caw, Caw!" Fouquet frowned, looking up at the noisy bird. Look for the shop with the raven, she was told. But to use real ravens? Wasn't that a bit too much on the nose? What if they had sent her to the wrong location by accident?

"Caw, Caw!" the mocking continued as she palmed the small medallion in her robes. It hadn't left her pockets since that moment. It was her best, maybe her only, chance at keeping her sister safe. So she grits her teeth and stepped into the store.

All manner of fancy suits lined the walls, and in a city of mages, it seemed out of place. The fact enough business came through to keep the place running was surprising in itself. The man behind the counter seemed to be in his forties to fifties, with greying hair, and a suit that could have come straight off the wall.

She raised her hand, showing the raven insignia. He nodded wordlessly, the doors closing at the flick of a switch. Moving over to the wall, he pulled one of the candlesticks poking out the wall to the left, revealing a hidden passage.

"The Uncrowned have been expecting you, Master Thief Fouquet," he finally spoke, bowing slightly. Under any other circumstance, she would have loved to hear herself be called a master thief. Now it was being used to remind her who exactly held her shackle.

She stepped into the passageway, following it down into the dark. How a floating island had an underside was beyond her. Regardless, she went further and further, as torches running on the walls slowly began to ignite. Light flickered at the end of her path, as she stepped into the opening.

The room was massive, an underground complex of wooden houses, treasurer's, large fat enforces, and dozens, if not hundreds milling about. Outlaws, thieves, pirates, brigands and more, seemed to call this place home. So many criminals in close proximity was normally a powder keg about to ignite, but things seemed calm. Weapon's remained in their sheath's, guns remanded holstered.

"So, you're the woman of the hour," a voice came from Fouquet's left, and she turned to face it. A red bandana covered the lower half of the new woman's face, a similar marking she had seen on a few others. Most of her armor was a matching red, less than ideal for stealth, as was the golden colored dagger that was simply too large to be a dagger. "I am Vanessa VanCleef, here to take you to the council."

Fouquet nodded, following the black haired thief. Despite her appearance, Fouquet was convinced she was the older of the two, despite the difference of height. It did not take them long to reach another secret door, though now that she had calmed slightly, she knew there was an empty room behind that wall. She had to wonder whether paranoia or wanting to keep somethings hidden was playing a roll in this.

"It would be best not to keep them waiting."

Fouquet let out a sigh, stepping into the small chamber. Several figures sat around a table, each seemingly cloaked in shadow.

"I told you she would come," a voice rang out, one all too familiar to her.

"You," Fouquet frowned, looking straight ahead. The one who had contacted her was here?

"Me," her voice seemed to sing-songy, "I believe we have a lot to discuss."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"That is almost crazy enough to work. With information as cut off as it is, nobody would expect anything from the ocean, let alone something that could reach from the surface to Albion," Fouquet was actually impressed with the rescue plan. It was thought out, but not needlessly complex. It had contingencies, yes, but it was crazy enough to work. One ship on the open water was hard to find, especially with the mist covering the coast and underside of the floating island.

One using illusions to stay hidden? It went from hard to nearly impossible. Still, it was hard to admit that this wasn't a big risk, especially for the Alliance. If they got caught, then it would easily be enough to pull them into the war, and likely, the Horde along with them. It would be a bloodbath unlike she could imagine.

"Extraction should be easy. Patrols in that area are too few, and they don't have the manpower to worry about it. Not with them preparing for the siege," it was the female orc that spoke. She easily towered over Fouquet, blue tattoos showed on her skin. "Even if found, they won't have the resources or time for an extended chase, and even if permitted, they would have no real proof of the ship's existence."

Clearly, this group took pride in their work. It was swift, it was efficient, and most importantly, it was particle. Even part of her own plans and measures could be quickly worked in, due to the fact they made the task less risky.

The information she had provided in exchange was as accurate as she could get. Some of it was new, while some only seemed to confirm suspicions already in place. It was alarming how much they actually knew, even if some of it was merely good guesswork. They even knew a few things she didn't, making matters only worse.

If they held up their end of the deal, which it was looking like they would, then it would be more than worth it.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana stood near the circle around Khadgar, watching as magical representations of the Pillars of Creation circled around him. The other leaders of each order were present, along with a few others. Karin of the Heavy Wind was towards the back, in full armor, no less. Princess Henrietta and Prince Anduin were in attendance, while the Warchief was absent, likely leading the Horde's forces in the coming attack. Prophet Velen, wise beyond his long years, Kalec, the leader of the Blue Dragonflight, adding more power behind their assault.

Illidan, the towering demon hunter was there by nature, though she did her best to avoid the fel empowered night elf. Same side or not, she had a hard time trusting the one called, the betrayer, even if the title was ill-earned. Marlexana could feel he was playing a different game to everyone else.

Still, she felt ill at ease, and she wasn't the only one. Her sister, the Deathlord, was shifting her balance. Marlexana herself felt like she was being watched. But she couldn't sense from where, and that only served to make matters worse. Khadgar was ignoring it, whatever it was, but her senses were screaming some type of danger.

Then she hissed. The sky had darkened, green lightning arcing through the air. Reality screamed, giving way to massive warships, easily more than a dozen. Panic had already set in, screams already reaching her ears.

"Colbert, get them out of here!" Honestly, she didn't need to yell. He was already moving, shepherding the students towards the portal.

The battle for the Broken Shore had begun.


	19. Omake: Burning Thorns

A shadow passed above the waves, rider lost in thought, looking at the small sphere in their hand. What was once a windstone had become something different. Something destructive. Once, the stone held a light green shade, as if it imprisoned a tempest.

Now, it was bright red, as flames roiled just below the surface. A firestone. Or, that's what it should have been. Within the center, lay a core of blue, silver, and gold. Azerite, that's what it had been called. Even now, the Horde and Alliance were holding talks about how they should be allowed to use it, and under what contexts.

The lifeblood of Azeroth, they called it. The lifeblood of a Titan. Yes, that secret was finally making its way out, that their world might be a bomb, if the Titan inside grew to maturity. Reconquestia had plans to insure such a thing would never come to pass, but that wasn't the mission today. If that sword didn't finish it first, that was.

Before them rose a mighty tree, breaking through the surf, branching throughout the sky. One could not deny it's beauty, even if it was inhabited nearly entirely by elves. Their destination, and their target. World trees they may have been, but they were still trees. Merely kindling that had yet to be chopped down.

Indeed, it would serve to create a grand fire. A tree will make kindling for a new war. One that Halkeginia hadn't seen since the days of Brimir himself. The Horde and Alliance would rip each other apart, creating the largest bloodbath ever seen. Removing the biggest threat to Reconquestia's aims and hopefully dragging the rest of the world with it. There, Reconquestia could pick up the ashes and rules.

It hadn't taken much. Firestones were unstable, and adding more fuel for the flame only made it easier. Sea vaporized, tree burning all the way to it's roots. In an instant, one of the oldest civilizations on Azeroth was crippled, hundreds of thousands burning alive.

A voice chuckled, watching the work. As shame there wasn't time to indulge, but reports didn't write themselves. After all, there would be plenty of time to watch when the Battle for Azeroth had begun.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sorry, but I was on the road for two weeks and didn't have my laptop, and I'd much rather not write on my phone. Either way, with BfA launching tomorrow, I decided to put this together before getting back to writing the next chapter. Yes, this is another cannon omake, and seeing as the War of Thorns doesn't happen in this timeline, I thought I'd shed a bit of light on how this conflict started.

I hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you again for the next chapter, which should be soon.


	20. Fall to Ruin

Julio watched the fleet before him. It was one that nobody had seen before. A true aerial and naval assault. Horde and Alliance ships plowed through stormy ocean without resistance, while dozens of galleons filled the sky. And at their head, four mighty gunships spearheaded the attack. Ogrim's Hammer and Skybreaker, two vessels that had fought in many battles, either side by side, or as enemies. Both were the most valuable asset in Northrend, withdrawn to fight for the fate of the world once more. Flanked on Skybreaker's left was The Sword of Dawn, formally a training vessel had joined the fight, it's crew ready to prove themselves in battle. On Ogrim's Hammer's right, another new ship had joined the fray. Broxigar's Vengeance.

Julio didn't exactly know the significance of the name, but it meant much to the Horde, and the Night Elves as well. It was their newest gunship, and the first made since the beginning of this war.

Between each vessel, dozens flew. Halkeginia dragons, alongside Azerothian wyverns and griffins, flew between the ships, with grace and ease. Bombers and gyrocopters weren't far behind, holding formation.

Their plan was a simple as it was brutal. Their joint force would hammer into the south, using numerical superiority and aerial advantage to crush whatever artillery emplacements the legion had on the shoreline, clearing a path for the transport vessels to come ashore. Meanwhile, the beach would be bombarded by the offshore battleships, who's long-range cannon's had already begun to open fire.

This would provide time for Dalarn's forces to launch a two-pronged aerial assault, the first would fly in under the distraction, deploying the Shield of Aggramar at the top of the massive black temple complex, cutting off half of the legion's reinforcements, and helping assure their air dominance. What remained would be sent to capture a rocky outcrop to the east, a naturally fortified position, as a base camp.

From there, they would drive Legion forces from the island, before committing an attack force to the tomb. A distraction, in all but in name, as the remainder of the strike force, would wipe out resistance until they reached the last portal to shut it down. Azeroth's adventurers had been given that task. If it wasn't from their track record in dealing with these types of situations, he felt he would have given more resistance to that part of the plan.

It was a good plan, with more than a few contingencies, one of which was already being deployed. Ship's elevations began to change, some raising higher into the air, while others began to lower. Each positioned itself so their shots wouldn't hit another, protecting themselves from crossfire. Grapeshots had already been loaded, at boths recommendation.

Though the advice wasn't exactly needed. Many crews had been involved against the attackers in the Romalian capital. Regular cannon fire was next to useless against Legion vessels, and their fliers had a tendency to swarm. Any normal shots had been brought with the explicit intention of giving the Legion a taste of vengeance.

The phrase 'no plan survives contact with the enemy' couldn't have been any more true. More than a dozen warships breached into reality, appearing as if from nowhere. They only held one miracle in that the main guns weren't pointed at their forces, but rather at Dalaran.

"Those bastards are crazy," Julio heard a voice to his left, and turned his gaze, squinting. A purple dome had risen around the floating city, but that wasn't the only thing he had noticed. Tiny violet dots had begun to descend, easily hundreds in number, making their way towards the battle group. He couldn't make out many details, but Julio was certain they were flying in on giant arcane birds.

So entrapped by the swarm of magic birds he failed to notice something important. Just as the mass of fliers was about to meet the lead ship, it suddenly exploded, as a massive beam of violet energy seemed to cut it in half. The Legion vessel shuttered in the air and seemed to vanish completely as if it's connection to the planet had been severed. Julio's eyes flashed back to Dalaran, only now noticing the orb sitting atop the highest tower in the city.

The Legion ships had already begun to change positions, forming a shield over the top of a warship. It was the largest by a considerable margin. Julio frowned, watching the display with provers interest. Clearly important enough to be shielded by the other ships from this new attack, but why?

"That warship is what's anchoring the others!" somehow, Maltuk's voice was heard all across the chaotic din. The sound of the Warchief's voice quieted the voices that surrounded them, quelling questions and confusion alike. "If we destroy it, the Legion will have no claim to this battle!"

Julio frowned. It was exposed, at the back of the formation and under all the others, who were too close to properly turn. Sure, it was vulnerable, but did they have any means to exploit that vulnerability?

"Gunships and Zeplians, move to engage! Keep to it's rear and fire with everything you have! All other forces, support the ground troops!"

"FOR AZEROTH!"

The moment the cry left the Warchief's mouth, it was echoed, each voice adding to what became an avalanche of noise. Thousands of thundering voices, each with fire and fury in their hearts.

The Battle for the Broken Shore had begun.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana let out a string of elvish curses as she dived around another shot. Legion cannons hundred off fel fire infused shots into the arcane mass of ravens descending towards them. Even with the vessels obscuring her vision, she could see the assault had already begun.

Fire leapt from her fingers, knocking a Felguard off the vessel with a burning hole in his chest. But that was about all she could really do against the massive armored ships. Pickoff targets and cannons. Khadgar's magic tore through into groups, and Karin, well. None had better luck keeping the skies clear than she did. Winds threw around bats like leaves, stripping flesh from bone off the doomguards.

A small number of mana bombs had actually been brought down from Dalaran, enough to deal with the large vessel serving as the Legion's anchor point. The problem was getting them there, as a single stray shot would cause them to blow apart. She weaved around another shot, igniting the cannon's ammunition, causing it to detonate, taking the weapon and it's operator out in a furious blaze.

There was something familiar on that vessel. Marlexana could feel it, though she didn't know where she knew it from. It was the presence of a powerful demon, without a doubt, but she couldn't tell anything more. She pushed aside the annoying problem in favor of the much more immediate ones. Namely, the choking swarm of bats that had begun to fill the air.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Julio watched as the four gunships fired into the behemoth legion craft, with no avail. To say things were going better on their own front was saying too much. A blast of fire from the dragon beneath him had caught one of the larger fel bats, causing it to plummet into the sand below. Grapeshots thundered into the swarming masses, easily felling dozens. Magic ripped into smaller groups, both Azerothian, and spells from the dragon riders.

Those fliers that didn't have magic, a group entirely comprised of the Azeroth contingent, used whatever else they had on hand. Guns, bows, and even spears were used, picking off lone members with relative ease. Julio even saw an orc throwing axes at one point, though he had lost sight of the individual.

However, while they couldn't exactly bring their forces over the beach, they were giving the gyrocopters and bombers enough time to do their jobs. Almost all the artillery emplacements the Legion put up on the cliff face had been destroyed, crippling their defensive line. What was on the beach was already being hammered, as explosive shells from their battleships rained down.

Julio never thought he'd have a naval fleet to thank for such success. What many had considered obsolete or the dead weight of the plan was what kept the attack from falling apart. Transports had already been given their signal to advance on the enemy position, breaking through the surf. At their flanks, a few ships low to the water covered their approach, prepared to draw fire from the more vulnerable transports.

Despite the one minor setback, things had been going well. While those ships were preventing them from taking the entire island in a storm of righteous fury, they still were on track for all their other mission objectives. Truly, they hadn't even lost a ship …

Julio's eyes widened in horror, as one ship was struck in the brow by a flaming green meteor.

"Infernals!" he heard someone shout, as what had once been a flaming ball of rock reached out of the hole it made. Fingers dug into the wooden planks of the ship, lighting the deck ablaze and tearing it asunder. Bellow, cannons were destroyed as their ammunition detonated, breaking the ship apart.

Magic slammed into its torso, as repeated blasts knocked the infernal off its already unstable footing, sending it plummeting into the surf below. But the damage was already done. Nothing remained of the bow, and the fires continued to spread, already consuming the sails. Water magic flashed, attempting to douse the flames to allow any survivors to be rescued. A heroic, but futile effort.

Thankfully, the windstone had remained intact. If it hadn't, then both ship and crew would have been lost. But infernals continued to rain down. Most impacted the water below, but when a ship was struck, it was a race against time. It was a miracle their transports had landed, with a portion of Dalaran's forces adding to the assault. Valarjar joined the fray, metal bodies cutting a bloody path into enemy lines, as winged females joined the fight above.

Julio tried to find the larger warships, only to find them using the body of the larger demon vessel as a shield. It was working, if only for the swarm of violet birds distracting the firing crews and taking apart it's defensive weapons piece by piece. While the area was the engines were kept was smoking somewhat, there had been little damage inflicted.

Another infernal managed to puncture one of the ships clean through, and Julio could only watch as it plummeted to the beach below. However, many mages had begun to adapt, channeling winds to knock aside the flaming boulders, or at least stop their momentum. Still, five ships had been lost completely, and three more had been crippled, with the rest supporting a variety of burns and impact marks.

While the bats had begun to clear, they couldn't stop the infernals so simply. He could only hope that the Aegis was put in place swiftly, otherwise, they would be torn apart. Most of the remaining fleet kept moving, but kept mostly around the shoreline, hoping to keep any further attacks away from the transports and their ground forces. Sure, they were clearly winning the ground battle, but that didn't mean much if they couldn't win in the air.

As the Horde and Alliance gunships seemed to break off their attack, Julio saw a violet flash, an orb that was rapidly expanding. What had they…?

He didn't have time to finish the thought, as the blast wave slammed into his face, forcing Julio to grab onto his mount and hang on for his life. Bright green flames added to the explosion, as the ship broke apart, embedded itself into the island's center, detonating with even more force than whatever it was that brought it down. It was only now that the blonde could see the ship's condition.

While not outright crippled, each ship had its own share of scars. The lower half of Broxxigar's Vengeance looked completely burned out, and it was a blessing that the upper deck hadn't caught fire as well. Meanwhile, Skybreaker limped along, damaged propeller barely enough to keep the vessel in the air. One of the rows of cannon's on its side was gone.

Ogrim's Hammer may have been the least damaged out of the four, with scorch marks running along its upper deck and sides, and the worst of the damage was confined to the forward cannon. It looked as if it had been hit by an infernal, crushed and flattened nearly humorlessly.

Sword of Dawn was the worst off, in his opinion. Three gaping holes in the side, many of which were still smoking, one being dangerously close to the rear rotor and nearly impacting the bridge. Julio knew they would have to retreat. Only one could truly fight, even at a diminished capacity.

They had nearly won the air battle, but infernal's still fell. They were less accurate as if launched from their resting place in panic, or desperation. Maybe the Legion realized their fleet had failed and were doing everything in their power to annihilate the attackers. A light lanced forth from the top of the Tomb of Sargeras, crashing into the swirling mass of green above. Green lightning flashed it's rage, sending thunder rumbling across the island, as storm clouds above slowly began to die.

What was once a breach upon reality had been repaired. No, that statement wasn't entirely true. It had been sealed, preventing fel taint or Legion reinforcements from passing through. The Aegis was in place, and Julio let out a sigh of relief. A flare arced upwards into the sky from a small outcrop. They had cut off part of the Legion's reinforcements and claimed a foothold on the island.

Well, it was a start. This was, after all, the original plan. Maybe if they had more of a fleet, they could wipe out all Legion resistance from above, but with things as they were, a retreat on that front would likely be ordered. They couldn't risk their fleet in its current condition. However, with the Aegis in place, the fight was more than tipped in their direction, even if they had to fight their way across the isle.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Even as the largest Legion craft meet its end, Marlexana still felt ill at ease. The presence she had felt was the demon Mephistroth. The commander of Jagganoth. She doubted the demon went down with his ship, meaning he was still a threat that needed to be dealt with. Thankfully, the ground battle was mercifully swift, as, for once, overwhelming numbers and force were on their side. Even if the aerial battle had been much more bloody, they had won the day.

That didn't change their base camp from being a chaotic mess. It was a bit too small, even with outposts descending down towards the beach and crater left behind by the crash. A concern that made itself stated when the Horde and Alliance would join the assault. Romailian forces only compounded the issue at hand.

Both fleets had begun to retreat, for their tasks were completed as well as they were able. Still, it didn't help the warlock not feel exposed and out in the open. She still expected an Infernal to fall out from the sky. While Marlexana knew that wouldn't occur, she had grown used to expecting such when dealing with Legion forces.

"He is at work. I can sense it," Thal'Kiel spoke, breaking into her thoughts. Marlexana could only frown. Many, many dark things sturred in that temple and reports stated that the pillars needed to be placed in specific locations throughout the tomb. Locations were given by the shade of the one who used the temple complex to hold the Avatar of Sargeras.

There was still much to fear if that was what he was working on. A monster without peer, maybe stronger than both his lieutenants. Such was Sargeras's might then even a fragment of his strength was overwhelming as such. They would advance on the tomb soon enough, so she would need to give her report soon. To fight the avatar, even if weakened, it would be foolish to not mention, even if it was only a foul possibility.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Julio, it's good to see you again," at the mention of his name, Julio's head whipped around, turning to see a familiar face. The undead elf, complete with her glowing red eyes, seemed to look almost smug. Arraint, he believed her name was. She was at the beach fighting against the Kavaldar, if he recalled correctly.

"Arraint. I do suppose you're well?" A nod from the once living elf confirmed it, with her massive gun still placed on her back. Likewise, her strange animal companion remained at her side. Her armor wasn't vastly different, however, but the black hood and cloak had gone. In its place was a cloak of greens and browns.

"Well enough, I suppose," she responded verbally for the first time, seemingly trying to stay relaxed, even if her mind didn't want that to be. Her eyes continued to flick upward as if to catch an infernal. She wasn't the only one engaging in such behavior. Julio had seen a few Romalian troops doing the same, though they lacked the subtilty some others had held.

Despite the sky being clear for all but a few clouds. Still, none seemed to be willing, or more accurate, capable of taking down their guard. Still, new plans were being drawn up for their attack. While Legion forces had been cleared considerably, given the numbers they have posted to hold the beach, and the original land attack route was now a crater that scouts actually said to stay away from.

Cursed, they had called it, as the bottom of the crater was paved with mangled skeletons and spirits of the damned. Fel taint and blasphemous engines created a scar that would take months to purify. Julio prayed for their souls, even though he knew they would go unanswered. The legion had many sins to pay for, and this was merely one of the lesser ones.

Getting to the Tomb would be hard fought, but they had their strike point. Their own piece of the Legion's territory. They would have to deal with much in the coming few days, but they had more of an advantage than before. Is this what the people of Azeroth felt like? Having the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"You get used to it," Arraint said, somehow reading his mind. Julio frowned, not entirely knowing if he could get used to such a life. It simply seemed insane how Azeroth's people could keep themselves so composed, even when they faced a threat to their lives. Adventures running around, taking out monsters and generally aiding the local population. There was a part of Azeroth's lifestyle he preferred that stayed.

At the northern edge of the encampment, Julio spotted a blood elf, wearing thick black robes and familiar red hair. That was the Netherlord, wasn't it? He knew many masters of their respective orders had led their forces from Dalaran, but he was surprised the warlock hadn't left yet. If he remembered correctly, she did have a job at the academy, in addition to the rest of her workload.

She seemed to gaze across the broken landscape, eyes seemingly locked onto the tomb. He was curious as to why she was staring, but the sound of grinding teeth made him reconsider asking. Whatever it was, it was surely important. As he turned to head back towards the command center, he noticed his walking companion was no longer at his side.

"Sister!" was what reached his ear first, followed by an indigent squawk of surprise and a thump against the ground. He turned back around, having to stop a grin at the current Netherlord's predicament. Somehow, the living blood elf had been enveloped by her sister's grasp, as she struggled to remove herself from the crushing bear hug. Arraint didn't seem to care that her now revealed sister wriggled in her grasp.

Julio, while amused to the point of his composure nearly breaking, was a bit surprised by this development. He knew that the Netherlord had a brother in the current Reagent Lord of Silvermoon, but having a sister? That was noteworthy, but why hadn't they mentioned each other at all? It didn't seem like embarrassment played a role, as Arraint was clearly overjoyed at seeing her sibling again, and he knew, that if she truly wanted to, the Netherlord would be able to remove herself from this situation.

Arraint seemed to jabber on, like an excited older sister dotting on the younger, smaller one, her grasp unrelenting. He didn't understand a word of what was being said, but it came rapidly.

"I should have expected this," he heard a cracking voice mutter. Julio looked at an orc with a head wreathed in fire. He frowned, wondering what could cause such a condition. Or how it remained untreated for so long.

"Ah, Ritskyn. Could you inform the Warchief that I suspect that the Legion intends to empower the Avatar of Sargeras? I would do so myself, but as you can see, I'm detained at the moment," the blood elf spoke for the first time since being enveloped by her sibling, earning a chuckle from the one Julio assumed was her subordinate.

"We have all felt it. The Warchief, as well the other military commanders, have been informed," to the orc's statement, Marlexana let out a sigh of relief, visually losing her tension. "However, they do wish for you to be part of the initial assault."

"That is perfectly acceptable," she spoke, eyes flickering towards the tomb, followed by what had to be the sound of strained ribs as her sister applied even more pressure.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The only real shame I have this chapter was that I really wasn't able to cover the land battle that took place. Oh well, maybe as an actual chapter someday. Still, it's the start of me beginning of modifying canon now that everything has been set up.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and please, don't' be afraid to Review or PM me if you have questions.


	21. Enter the Second

"Do you think she's going to be in today?"

"Last time we saw her, she was charging into an army of demons. If that isn't enough to cancel class, what is?"

This was the line of conversation that raged throughout the room, bouncing from person to person. The events of Dalaran had left most shaken, though a few seemed hungry for more. They were aware that the attack had been repealed and forces had struck out at the Tomb of Sargeras in swift fashion. Yet, despite this, the class hadn't been called off.

Now, it left several students wondering just when their teacher was going to arrive. It wouldn't be long until class traditionally began, and she was typically at her desk long before class even started.

The door swung open, revealing the blood elf. She had clearly seen better days. Despite being tied back, her hair still looked like a disheveled mess. Her robes were smudged with dirt, pocketed by red stains that couldn't be anything other than blood, around tears that could only be created by blades and axes. The floating skull followed behind her, almost seeming to match the beleaguered appearance of its master.

The green fire in her eyes was dimmer than normal, and she appeared ready to slump over and fall asleep at any moment. But despite all that, her presence commanded instant silence as she made her way over to the desk.

"Good," she turned to face them, her voice only reinforcing her haggard appearance. But there was a twinge of stubbornness to it, even as she worked her magic, summoning today's demon. Louise frowned, as did any other who completed their assigned reading. She had read much of the Grimnoir given to them already, though part of her did regret doing so.

The demon before them wasn't really a demon at all, it's only solid mass being two bracers used to keep the creature bound. Its the main body was shaped like a raindrop, a writhing mass of shadow that warlock's used to absorb enemy attacks. While the legion made use of such beasts from time to time, they were not of the twisted nether. They were of the void.

Louise had been aware of the arguments held over what few of Azeroth's priests used when compared to the founder's own magic. There was none, in truth. One drove it's wielder insane, the other was used by a holy man. To try and compare them was foolish.

However, this was made of Azeroth's void, or rather, their universal concept of it. It simply was durable, with no vulnerability offensively to exploit. The spell was just as effective as a blade, which, honestly, simply was bad news for anyone. Thankfully, for all its defensive power, it wasn't exactly threat so long as the distance was kept. Sure, its claws were sharp, but it was slow.

A line mage of water and wind would be able to freeze it, and a simple dot earth could simply open a pit beneath its feet. From there, it could be taken apart at leisure. Fire could weaken it over time, and a strong enough wind mage was far from helpless. But where did that leave her?

A frown grew. Her continued practice was getting her nowhere, as far as she could tell. Her new teacher had promised to try and explore what she could produce her explosions, but the warlock had been busy, and would likely remain that way for the foreseeable future. Her own attempts at improving it had also proved less than effective.

So simply blast it. Again. It was almost insulting that a commoner had more variety in combat than her.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I just got word from Stormwind. We are green for the extraction of our target."

"About damn time we finally got the order. Any more dead patrols that the gig would have been up if it isn't already."

"The reports we wrote will hopefully buy us enough time to extract. Still, moving that many small children with prove a challenge. How many days are we away from the edge of the island?"

"Five days on foot, if we push it. A week's worth is expected though. Then we can get down the fleet and get out of here."

"Agreed. The sooner this gets done, the better it's going to be for everyone. The civil war here has taken another turn south. If they're involved, then we need to get that information to command at once."

"Do we even know why we're doing this? I mean, she doesn't look too special, even by elf standards."

"She herself, no. However, getting her out before they realize her sister has left their service will place her sister in our debt. The fewer complications, the better."

"Do we have the letter? She's not going to move otherwise. Even with it, I have my doubts."

"Naturally. If anything, it's because of the children. Sure, we have to keep off the beaten path, but we have a druid with us. That should help us."

"Ideally. Now, which of us will speak with her?"

"It should be Uthy. She's a night elf, so getting her to trust what she's saying should be much easier, especially if she hasn't heard about the alliance yet."

"Do I get any say in this matter? I would much rather prefer it if I don't."

"While you have the choice, I cannot deny the logic of such a statement. She is young and likely skittish around strangers. This could work in our favor, or against it. However, I ultimately leave the call up to you."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The knocking at the door took Tiffania by surprise. Most didn't come this far into the woods, with her really going into down to buy goods every so often. Last she went, she'd heard something about a large animal roaming the woods. So what was someone doing all the way out here?

The first thing she noticed about the figure was that they covered themselves completely with a cloak. Not a single patch of skin was visible, but it did not escape her notice that two points appeared on the hood of the cloak, seemingly not human.

"I come bearing a letter to one Tiffania, directly from your sister." A leather glove with a green tree sowed into the back held out the envelope.

"Thank you," the half-elf in disguise said, taking the paper from the strange individual, before closing the door. She hadn't heard from her sister in quite some time, only receiving money from her work. The real reason why she was able to care for so many orphans was that of her sister finding work in Tristain.

She opened the envelope, eyes looking over the words of his sister, growing ever more concerned that this was not to be an average letter. While it was indeed her handwriting, she had written in a hurry, with a few mistakes that wouldn't have been made if this were a normal letter.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Dear Tiffania,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep touch as much as I'd like, but I have been very busy, and have recently found a new employer. Many things have changed since I last wrote to you at length, and I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't heard about them. Two new nations have arrived in force, bringing strange ideas and even stranger people's. One of their high ranking military leaders has hired me and said I could name my price if pay alone wasn't good enough.

I took him up on that offer. He agreed to send three of his best agents to remove you, and the children under your care, and bring all of you to a safer place. Not only will you be safe from the war, but you also won't need to hide who you are anymore.

I know this is out of nowhere, and I'd rather be there to speak with you in person, but the war has made travel impossible. Please, do believe what they tell you.

I will see you again soon,

Your big sister.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Tiffania looked at the letter, again and again, trying to process what was on the page. She wouldn't need to hide she was a half-elf? Her mind whirled at the implications of such a thing. Her sister wouldn't lie to her, she was sure of it, but that should be impossible.

But wait, did that mean? Tiffania opened the door again. The figure did not look like they had moved an inch from where they had been left, and now they were flanked by two others. Neither had long hair, the one of the left was short cropped and brown, while the other had hair at a more medium length, close to her shoulders, which seemed red.

Leather gloves reached up, pushing back the hood used to hide the first's face, and Tiffania couldn't bite back her gasp of surprise. The trademark sign of an elf, long ears that ended in a point, was unmistakable. But something was wrong. More accurately, her entire face was wrong. Rather than any normal shade, the elf before her had deep purple skin, combined with piercing silver eyes and a long mane of green hair.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Things had taken no short amount of time to explain. It was nearly noon when the three had arrived, but by the time they were done, the night was on the horizon. At first, the children were distrustful of the newcomers but took to them swiftly enough. The Kaldorei, otherwise known as night elves, had a better handle on them than expected, more than enthralled by her shape-shifting abilities.

She knew they hadn't informed her of everything. Why would they be so willing to risk being caught over something so relatively minor? But what reason did they have to lie?

Her sister wasn't lying either. Out here, they were isolated, and those under her care only had herself to rely on, nor did they interact with others their age outside of each other. Stormwind, the capital of the Alliance, not only had an orphanage but many active families. It wasn't just a better choice for her, where even a stray gust of wind could mean death, but ultimately for them as well.

They said they couldn't force a choice on her, but that wasn't fully correct. There was a choice, but it certainly wasn't a good one. It wasn't just her sister's instance, it was that this was, ultimately, the best choice.

They would be leaving tomorrow, at the earliest they could. Many were relucent, she could see it in their eyes. For some, this was the only place they'd ever known, the only place they had memories of. Some of the older ones helped their younger peers, understanding what was going on.

There was an unspoken rule that they were to pack light. Only carry what they needed, or what they couldn't do without. Most of that was clothing and food, with only a few having trinkets and relics to remember their family by. Tiffania herself was the same. Only having terrible memories and a ring left to her by her mother. She would take it, of course. Even if it was painful, it was still all that she had left.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The forest was thick with leaves and trees. Navigating their way through would have normally been a difficult task, but the three knew where they were going. Or their leader did, and everyone else was simply following. To make sure the children didn't run off, they had split themselves evenly among the group, either trying to keep them entertained, or to otherwise prevent them from running off.

It was slow going, regardless, even after the first two nights. They'd stayed off the road entirely, taking routes that shouldn't even exist. When questioned, they had pointed out the roads were filled with brigands and other thieves, and dealing with this would leave clear evidence of what path they took.

From what she had gathered, they had some type of small ship waiting near the coastline, ready to take them down to a naval vessel ready for this exact operation. Another strangely in an already strange world.

All she hoped for is that everyone returned safe and sound.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"So, the Princesses operation to retrieve that letter is about to begin?" the question was clear, as was the reasoning behind it.

"Correct. That's what our source had indicated. How sure are you that it's the Viscount?" Fouquet looked up at her new colleagues, surprised they knew so much already. What they didn't know, they suspected and were close to proving. Though the Viscount being her handler was a bit shocking.

"Very certain, though nothing that would hold up in any type of legal court," Shaw groundout. "That personal spell of his allows him to create and control duplicates of himself over vast distances. Unless we can prove he knows it, nothing we have on him could ever stick."

Fouquet's mind turned. She never really did try to look beneath her handler's hood, but she had caught a glimpse at time or two and had to admit that they looked similar. She always chalked it up as a coincidence, but after hearing that, she was beginning to doubt.

"What's in the letter was apparently damning enough to cause the wedding between Princess Henrietta and the Germanian emperor to be cut off. Beyond that, I'm uncertain," Fouquet continued.

"Unfortunately, last we've heard, the plan's changed. It sees Reconquestia is less supportive of their revolution these days, though we have yet to determine the cause of such a shift," Anna huffed. "We have people trying to figure out why, but both seem to have kept it under very tight wraps. Our eyes on the ground suspect potential Legion involvement."

"If true, then their plans for global domination might have more than just some bark. It'll be a problem we'll all have to deal with," Shaw shook his head with disgust.

Again, Fouquet found herself being overwhelmed. How deep were the Uncrowned roots? How were they able to insert spies into an organization that nobody else knew existed, let alone was a threat. She knew they were good at their jobs, but this good? Sure, they couldn't prove most of what they knew, but the fact that they knew it, more than she did.

And this was nothing more than a collection of brigands, pirates, thieves, assassins, and spies, all working together. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if the organization had its hands in crime across not just Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms, but all across Halkeginia as well.

Sure, it wasn't legal, but she didn't care, and clearly, neither did they. They hired her, the most infamous thief Tristan had ever seen, simply because of that fact. Whatever information she had on Reconquista was just a bonus.

Sure, some nobles in Tristain would be mad over the whole thing, if they ever found out, but the Uncrowned technically didn't exist. They couldn't catch her in the first place, and now, even if they did find a way, they really couldn't touch her, either. Though she doubted that she'd be stealing from them anytime soon.

Potential artifacts from Alliance nobles? Likely unnecessary at this point, though finding information if blackmail was needed also fit her bill just fine. Infiltration was always her specialization, and she doubted there would be defenses in place for people with her brand of earth magic.

"Yeah. They've already been putting pressure on the Horde to 'dissolve their heretical nation and wait to be purged one by one', and Maltuk's having none of it. If they start pushing military, the Warchief will come out swinging. He may not want a war, but they seem to be trying to provoke one. Them allying with the Legion would be the final straw," Annadorsa muttered to herself. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if he's already formulated plans to take the entire island."

That break Fouquet's concentration in swift order. There was no way that was possible. Right? There was no way a nation whose air power numbered in ships in the single digits could take Albion's navy and win.

"Surely you're joking, right?"

"Sadly, no. Maltuk had a very, very long track record of finding ways to win engagements he shouldn't be able to," Shaw groaned out. "We have a file on hand, actually. Annadorsa, can you grab it for me please?"

"Which volume? We have one for each campaign. Two for what happened during Pandaria," Anna flipped her way through a folder filled with papers each could be used to make a book.

"Northrend, please. It's the shortest on hand and it'll have some of the best examples," the folder impacted the desk with a loud thump, almost as if a book had been tossed down. If that was the smallest, what exactly was the biggest like?

"The Horde attempt to seise Wrathgate Woe was a disaster, killing most of the attack force, including most standing officers. This left Maltuk in a quasi-commanding role with a large number of wounded soldiers. Knowing he couldn't hold the position with what he had, he fell back, using what engineers remained to create saronite bombs in mass. He then loaded both devastators and had them fire until their evacuation team arrived, taking no further casualties."

"At the Wrathgate, he went back for wounded troops, regardless of faction, with a crude gas mask until the dragons killed who couldn't be saved. He only lost his sense of smell and his sense of taste as a result. Most got off worse than he did."

"Yeah, before nearly storming the Undercity by himself. Would have honestly succeeded, if the Horde leadership had let him."

It went on and on, each exploits almost as over the top or insane as the one before it.

"Wasn't there someone else who was going to hold the position of Warchief?" her question felt innocent enough. She hadn't heard anything beyond that the orc had advocated that the present Warchief be given the position, rather than himself.

"Yes, the highest ranking officer besides the Warchief, High Overlord Saurfang. His track record in combat make's most Orc's achievements seems minor by comparison, even the Warchiefs. He's fought in every conflict since the First War. He has decades of experience under his belt, and can easily cut down ten foes in a single swing of his axe."

"Oh," was about all she could say. What was with this world that it produced people who could deal with the average mage no problem? He sounded like the Karin of the Heavy Wind of none magic users. Half of what you heard about him was false, but it was the crazy stuff that was actually true.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Captian, we just received word from the shift change. They're gone!" a soldier broke into the small barrack, not caring who heard the announcement. Muttering and grumbling echoed, the earlier than normal wake up call not being appreciated by anyone.

"Who's gone?" from one of the larger beds, a voice grumbled, opening his eyes in annoyance.

"The girl! The one that Lord Cromwell himself ordered us to observe!" that got everyone moving.

"How? We were alternating soldiers every week! We would have noticed!" cries like that echoed throughout the room, increasing in intensity.

"Enough! Hand me that report, now!" the papers were torn from the soldier's hand, as the commander looked over the missive. A frown turned into a scowl, a scowl into a grimace of hate and fear.

"Gather whatever horses you can! They could not have gotten far!"


	22. Speaker

Marlexana's gaze fell across the court, moving across the makeshift arena of battle to observe her students. There was an improvement, and she took pride in that, but many of her students were to learn how to use their magic in more ways than just simply to attack.

The thunk of Tabitha's ice spear as it impaled the fel hound straight through. Out of all her student's, Tabitha was the most concerning. She was a model student, spending much of her time studying or reading, and her friendship with Kirchie, also another good student, was a bit strange. While her friend wore her heart on her sleeve, Tabitha was as cold as the ice she used in battle. Combined with the fact she blew every other student away practically, showed that she more than plenty of experience in combat. Much more than a child like her would normally have. She'd have to do some digging into that at some point, just another thing tacked on to her already busy schedule.

Guchie was the most improved, an excellent sign by her standards. His previous embarrassment at the hands of her demon had lead to growth from him. Other teachers commented about how he lost an edge to his pride and was doing better in class as a whole. His on again off again relationship with his girlfriend, Montmorency, was seeming to stablize as well, even if he remained extremely flirtatious from time to time. His attempts to check the worst of his nature where present though.

Montmorency wasn't the best when it came to combat or even studies, but she was determined to keep pace with her boyfriend, and that seemed to be serving her well enough. Being a water mage of dot rank was holding her back, without a doubt, but she was able to work with it, even if she utterly lacked the creativity or inhumanity to use more gruesome methods of using her magic.

Kirchie, while not having the combat sense of Tabitha, was still a force to be reckoned with. In terms of her fire magic, she was without a doubt good, and likely the best in the class outside of her blue-haired friend. Whether it was simply because of her elemental efficacy, or that she was just very strong by herself, she couldn't tell.

Despite being called Zero, Louise was easily one of if not her best student when it came to theory and research. Sure, her checkups with Kithkiris allowed her to ask questions to an Azerothian native, but that couldn't explain her increasing knowledge. She was aware that a few books on Azeroth's history were being published to be placed in their libraries, something that was causing more paperwork pile up due to the sudden and unexplained retirement of Osmond's secretary. She'd be damned if the Uncrowned didn't have something to do with it, though she couldn't figure out what that might be or why.

Though, seeing Louise's explosions first hand, there was more going on than what most first assumed. It was a shame she had no time to research further into the subject, and she was hoping class based exercises would shed some light on the strange anti-magic. One that didn't involve catching a blast to her own face. Thus far, she had learned a single thing. The more magic involved, the larger the explosion. As such, it seemed to eat away at beings that were composed primarily of magic, but against others, it failed to do lasting damage. Her coworker had passed out due to surprise, not any actual damage.

It made her effective, if too entirely straightforward in practice, a pitfall in its own right. Though it didn't appear like Louise was happy about it either, a blessing. Still, Marlexana was concerned. Such a thing didn't make sense, even with her still incomplete knowledge of how their magic fully worked. Louise didn't fit, and how nobody could figure out how, or more importantly, why?

This place was full of educators, and yet not a single one attempted to put any thought into this? Sure, they were busy, she had seen them many a time, and even Colbert had time for a hobby.

The fel hound across from Louise opened its mouth wide, eating up one of her 'fireballs'. However, even at her distance, Marlexana felt something go wrong. However, as its body twisted and contorted, ballooning outwards as if about to explode, she had managed to step in front of Louise.

It popped, a gout of fire containing the worst of the green demonic ichor and the resulting shore of body parts. Marlexana frown, looking at were the demon once stood. That was not supposed to happen. No, not at all. Never before had she seen such a reaction before in her entire life. Yes, there was a limit to how much one could absorb, but exploding wasn't something they did.

Louise was looking at her feet, her face as pink as her hair, likely out of embarrassment. Marlexana felt pity towards the girl, she really did. Each of the other hounds was dispelled with a wave of her hand.

"Louise, you managed to fill a felhound with so much magic it exploded," Marlexana did her best to keep herself from sounding condescending. "You have accomplished what I thought to be impossible. Class will be dismissed a bit early."

Louise's face seemed to light up from the praise, while a few cheers went up from her classmates. Marlexana shook her head, sighing. Children were children, and she knew sometimes, classes weren't well-liked, regardless of how entertaining and useful they were.

She floated the soulstone configuration towards herself, what had allowed her to control this many demons with such precision. Useful, though it always required prep work and time afterward to unbind the demons.

Marlexana bit her lip, repressing a gasp of shock and worry. The soulstone used for Louise's demon had shattered in its entity.

Forget latter, there were things she could push aside. This needed to be solved, now!

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Siesta, could you please find where I put my last two practical classes records and the soulstones along with it, and bring them to the library?" Marlexana's sudden request took the black haired girl by surprise.

"Yes, of course," she stammered, taken by surprise. Normally, after class, she would leave on other business, before returning later and maybe getting a few hours of sleep. To suddenly undertake some form of the research project was unlike her.

"Thank you," Marlexana nodded, already lost in her own thoughts.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marlexana never understood why such a large library would ever be this quiet and empty. Sure a few members of the Kirin Tor moved about, cataloging books for future reference, but the lack of students, besides the occasional few of her own. It took a few minutes for Siesta to arrive, balancing both trays and the two leather-bound books in her hand, placing them down at the edge of the table.

"Thank you," Marlexana grinned, pulling the two books toward herself. It didn't take long to find both. For the imps, Louise was paired with orb 18, and the voidwalker, orb 3. A brief flick of magic caused the two orbs to raise, floating towards her as she probed them, a growing frown marring her lips. Sure, they weren't destroyed, but cracks had begun to form, alarming in its own right.

"Is something wrong?" Siesta asked as Marexana turned to the young girl.

"Remember what I told you about the function of soulstones?" Siesta nodded her head.

"Effectively, these two stones are cracked. I only thought to look back after Louise destroyed one on accident today," Marlexana let her statement sink in.

"I thought you said that was impossible."

"That's because it's supposed to be. And these are damaged. Once is a chance. Three times is something else," Marlexana sighed. "What are the five elements again? Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Void, right?"

"You think Louise might be Void?" Siesta voice sounded incredulous as if the idea was simply impossible.

"She has magic, that really can't be up for debate anymore," Marlexana frowned. "But if she doesn't fit the other four, then Void is the most likely solution, Therefore, it is the solution."

"Of course, we need to find some form of evidence to prove it for certain," Eyes flicked around, looking at the stores of tomes placed onto the selves, reaching greater heights.

"We're going to be here for a while, aren't we."

"Indeed."

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The few mages of the Kirin Tor were surprisingly little help in this endeavor, for they had yet to come across such a book. For such a legendary and holy figure, Marlexana was increasingly annoyed with the lack of documentation on the man. One would think such a man would prove hard to pinpoint due to the embellishment of legend, passed down over the years. Not because of a stone wall of pure silence. Honestly, it was aggravating to no end.

Still, a few books remained, mostly emplaced within the forbidden section that only the teachers had access too. It almost was an insult that she forgot one of her rules. When in doubt, always check the forbidden section. If it doesn't have what you need, it'll point you in the right direction.

About the only nonreligious book they had found on the matter, but it didn't go much into the spells the first void mage used. Each page had to be painstaking looked over, as to not miss any details that could prove useful in discovering any facts.

It was Siesta who had spotted the scant few lines involving magical properties of his magic, alongside the actual name of one his spells, or, at least, some shorthand for it. The wording was particular as well, saying that it destroys magic. Didn't disrupt. Didn't shut off. Destroyed. Exactly like what Louise was doing.

So, she had proof for her claims. Admittedly, she didn't think that far ahead. Louise needed guidance on how to use her magic, and dead men weren't exactly the best teachers. And there was no living teacher with any knowledge of the void, whether through the natural course of time or someone tampering with records. She wasn't sure which was which, but it still proved alarming.

Siesta was already in the know, but that was about it. She needed to inform people who could actually be trusted with such information. She knew Brimir was a big deal, and someone able to prove one wielded the magic of their most holy figure, there would be an uproar of chaos. So something like this would need to remain as quiet as possible. However, Louise clearly had confidence issues, no small part of that being from her lack of magic. While informing her of such certainly wouldn't fix the problem, it would serve as a base to correct it. She remembered when she told Louise that she did have magic, the twinkling in her eyes of a person being told they have worth. It was almost disturbing.

Or it could cause her to go the opposite direction, which would also be a bad thing. She could only imagine the damage the girl could wreak if the worst of her nature decided to show its face. She didn't have much of a handle on the girl though, from a personal sense.

However, the headmaster would have to be informed. As much as the old man annoyed her some days, this was his school, and he needed to be aware. Colbert as well. The man was easily the most serious out of all of the other teachers, despite him not appearing as such. He, if nobody else, would take such a thing with the same seriousness she would under such conditions.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You knew! This whole time!" it was an act of magic itself that the tower hadn't shock from the bellow and the angry pacing that followed. Colbert frowned out of concern, almost thankful that the elven women had left her casting implements elsewhere, though he knew it was a small mercy at best. He could almost see flame licking it's way off her fingertips, as if she was about to snap in rage at any moment.

"She's been dealing with this for how long, and yet you never saw fit to inform her?" her tone was an accusation, and Colbert could feel the pressure.

"It was only a theory." Colbert raised his hands defensively. "If we were wrong, it would have crushed her even more. And if we were right, she is using a holy element. That is the last thing the church or anyone else of power wants on their hands." The only response he got was a growl, as the elf rubbed her forehead.

"We would have been able to know for certain after the familiar summoning, but," Colbert let it end there. He wasn't exactly sure if Louise succeeded or not. So much had happened during what amounted to a short time frame, and even then, if she had summoned anything, it would be likely long gone. With no runes to confirm, they were at a loss.

"If what that book said about void mages is correct, then I am convinced she succeeded. And if she summoned what I thought she did," Marlexana's voice seemed calmer, but her calmness was disturbing. A twinge of fear, no, of actual terror, was present, so faint he could have passed it up as imagination.

"What?" Osmund prompt cut through the air like a knife, and the elf scowled.

"What I am about to tell you will not leave this room," her voice was flat, dangerously so. "You will not speak of this to anyone, you will not breathe word of what is about to transpire."

"Do you remember Azeroth's myths about the Titans? The ones who shaped our planet, locking the elemental spirits and Old Ones into their present prisons? The ones that haven't been seen since?" Colbert nodded. He had ordered as many books on Azeroth's long history as he could, for research purposes. Gnomish and Goblin tech was interesting enough in its own right, and he hoped it would eventually begin catching on.

But the Titans weren't common topics, very clear on where they came from and why they did what they did. Most of it was theory, or records taken from Titan complexes, and most of it seemed vague and incomplete. One common theory was that Titan's were seeding every planet they came across with life, though the reasons weren't exactly clear as to why.

"Azeroth contains what is known as a World Soul. Or, in other words, a Titan that has yet to be born." Colbert raised an eyebrow. While that was a surprise, what did that have to do with…

Oh. Was she implying that Louise had summoned an unborn Titan as her familiar? That she was somehow responsible for merging their two worlds? It was crazy, but it was almost crazy enough to make complete sense. The time dates matched up, and it was only that night when two more moons had somehow joined the celestial dance.

"I see. That would be indeed problematic," Osmund nodded his head. He couldn't tell what was going through the old man's head at the moment. "That paints some things in a different light."

Colbert's eyebrow raised, confused by his statement.

"So the Legion also seeks to kill Azeroth's world soul, does it not?" Colbert blinked in surprise. He sometimes forgot the headmaster was very old and could be very wise at times.

"Yes, of that we have little doubt. However, without Sargeras, I have doubts to their capacity, especially with them on the defensive," Marlexana nodded, finally calming down. "From a certain perspective, one could say that almost every near world ending event since the Cataclysm was over the world soul, to a certain degree."

"And this needs to be kept quiet because?" Colbert questioned, out of curiosity than any disrespect. The blood elf let out a groaning sigh.

"Does this planet even have an analogy for a world soul? Something that grows within a planet to something that will easily tower over one? Combine with the fact every single scary thing out there either wants to kill it, or corrupt it, and that they are now in the line of fire just as much as we are? All because of one mage? Holy element or not, if this came out, and Louise is revealed as a Void mage, she will be attacked by not just fearful politicians, but also fearful mobs. She will be the one blamed for their suffering, and their pain when it comes time to defend this new world from those who threaten it."

"If people knew about the world soul, people would panic, and right now, we don't want that type of panic"

Colbert sighed. She wasn't exactly wrong. He felt like that line of reasoning may blow up in their face sometime in the future.

"Longville, please make sure to, … oh," Osmund mussed, causing both Colbert and Marlexana to chuckle at the old man.

"I see you're still missing your secretary," Marlexana teased, seeming to enjoy the lighter mood. Osmund merely grumbled, reaching for his quill pin, before jotting down a few notes of things he was supposed to remember about this conversation.

"You never did tell we where she ran off too. All I know is that she said she got a better job," Colbert was curious on that matter as well. The young lady seemed very hard working, and not the type to up and quit without good reason.

"I'm not entirely sure on that myself. All I know is that, what is the group's name again?" Osmund mussed, flipping through a few notes. "Ah, yes, the Uncrowned."

Colbert hadn't heard of such a group, but based on Marlexana's reaction, she had. Her face soured and soured clearly not happy about what she had been told.

"As much as I thought that was the case, why?" she spoke exactly what was on his mind, even if he didn't know the context.

"That is simple, actually. Ms. Longueville and Fouquet are one and the same," Osmund said, reaching for his pipe as if stating something completely unimportant.

"Are you kidding me!" Marlexana had regained her second wind, voice echoing off the walls, thankfully, not spreading further. "You let the Uncrowned, to hire the most infamous thief in Tristain, if not all of Halkegenia when she was under your employment in the first place! Are you mad!" The pacing began, muttering back and forth in a language that he couldn't understand.

Osmund simply shrugged, almost seeming to enjoy her short mental breakdown. Colbert could only watch what was happening in shock. Today was already becoming rapidly strange enough as it was. Having one teacher snap due to stress wasn't going to be good. It was the sound of deep breaths that showed she was beginning to calm down, as a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in!" Osmund responded as the doors swung open. Standing there was the girl that Osmund had assigned to Marlexana, beside her was a dwarf. He had seen one or two of the stout folk but he had yet to see one with a body made of diamond. Was he one of the earthen, as they were known? Most curious.

"Magni? What are you doing here? I thought you would be at Ulduar?" Marlexana questioned, recognizing the dwarf. Now that Colbert could take a closer look him, it wasn't just his skin made of crystal, it was his entire body, armor and all. This had piqued his interest. How could one forge such armor? It seemed to be part of his body like it had been there since birth, but that didn't make sense.

Her tone was different too as if she wasn't just talking to a coworker or even a boss. If anything, she spoke as if the figure before her was royalty of some sort. The crown atop his head only cemented this idea, though it looked like it had been stuck in place, as if by some spell.

"Apologies lass, I don't mean to interrupt, but I'm on urgent business and I need your help," his voice sounded like a rockslide but was surprisingly gentle. "I need help finding someone, and you are much more familiar with the students than I." Osmund visibly raised an eyebrow, while Marlexana frowned.

"As much as I am willing to help, I'm already beginning not to like where this is going," Marlexana seemed, well, at a lack of a better term, annoyed slightly. For a teacher who was sometimes considered cold and harsh, she honestly seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"It's nothing serious, lass. Azeroth just wants me to talk with someone. Short, pink hair. Something about her causing explosions."


End file.
